


reminiscing in retrograde

by synthehol_king



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Fluff, M/M, PTSD, Solid!Odo, lil bit of angst thrown in too, post-Ascent, quodo with background garak/bashir, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2020-07-26 03:47:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20037403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/synthehol_king/pseuds/synthehol_king
Summary: Odo invites Quark on an evening adventure in the holosuites. It quickly becomes their weekly routine. Luckily, they both know a good tailor.





	1. let's go to the malt shop

**Author's Note:**

> **mood:** ["I'll Rust With You" - Steam Powered Giraffe](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IN4aFwGy2ck)
> 
> cw: ptsd, solid!odo, descriptions of nausea
> 
> set post-Ascent, pre-The Begotten
> 
> _reminiscing in retrograde,  
will fuel our pointless escapade_   


“You’re late.”

Quark looked up with an offended glare, swiveling forward in his bar stool. “_Some_ of us don’t have the luxury of choosing our own hours,” he retorted, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. The bar itself was practically bare, save for a man reading a newspaper, and a teenage couple huddled at the end of the countertop, but the restaurant surrounding them was bustling with activity. Waitresses skated by without pause, keeping in time with the steady flow of business as usual. 

“Isn’t that the point of running your own bar?” The barkeep grunted, his thin mouth curving into a sarcastic smile. He looked absurd, with his red and white striped uniform, apron, and folded paper hat atop his slicked-back hair. Polishing a glass like he knew what he was doing. Quark resisted the urge to reach up and send the little hat flying with a swat of his hand.

“No, it isn’t. And I’d recommend you try actually running this place a few nights in a row and see what time you get out of here, _Constable,_” Quark shot back, tugging at the collar of his outfit. “Besides, I had to change.”

\-----------

When he’d commissioned Garak to make him a suit, he’d been almost too eager to help. The growing catalogue of vintage Terran clothing in Garak’s shop was largely thanks to the holosuites, and Quark could hardly complain – it anything, Garak’s recent decision to display a few of his more elaborate pieces in the window was free advertisement for his bar, and vice versa. But he’d hardly expected them to be so _itchy_. 

“Wool was customary for business attire of this era,” Garak had explained, after Quark had stepped out of the dressing room. He spoke without looking at Quark, currently focusing his attention to the measuring tape around Doctor Bashir’s neck. Apparently he was in the market for yet another outfit for an excursion of his own. “It’s practical, warm, and the texture is rather stylish, wouldn’t you agree?”

“It is flattering on you, Quark. The best suit I’ve seen you wear, in fact,” Bashir added, a brief flash of panic in his eyes as he met Garak’s amused gaze. “Not that the others aren’t flattering, of course.”

“How sincere that sounded given our current arrangement.”

“Not that this isn’t _riveting_,” Quark interrupted, not eager to be the catalyst for a feigned lovers’ quarrel. “But I think I’ll be on my way. Things to do, people to see. You understand.”

“Indeed,” Garak smiled, shushing Julian’s questioning glance with a subtle nod. The doctor mouthed an “oh,” understanding, to which Garak suppressed another amused eye roll. This exchange managed to escape Quark’s attention, as he was already headed for the door, his pace much quicker than usual.

“He’s in quite a hurry,” Julian remarked, resting his arms around the tailor’s shoulders. “Wonder what he’s got to be in such a rush about?”

“Oh, I don’t suppose it’s any of our business,” Garak replied, smiling as he released the measuring tape to clasp his hands behind the small of Bashir’s back. He gave the doctor a quick nuzzle. “But judging from how much he just paid me for that suit, I’d say I’ve a fairly good idea.”

\-----------

“You look ridiculous, by the way.”

Quark made a face as he slowly sipped at a black coffee. It was one of the few human drinks he could stomach, despite the rest of his family’s inclination towards root beer, of all things. Odo was currently filling a glass with a soda gun, politely and pointlessly nodding to the hologram who’d ordered it. 

“What made you want to be a bartender, anyway?” Quark added.

Odo gave another amused grunt. “I suppose I could ask you the same question,” he turned, grabbing a decorative glass from a shelf behind the counter. He tossed it into the air from behind his back, before turning again to catch it with his other hand. He was _beaming_, obviously quite pleased with himself. Quark tried not to smile, failed, and quickly rested his chin in his hand, curling his fingers over his mouth to hide it.

“Seriously, if you wanted a job all you’d have to do is ask. It’s not like any of my staff would give you much competition,” Quark continued, watching Odo wipe down the counter with a strange sort of awe. “And it’s bound to be better pay than whatever you make as a security officer.”

“I don’t get paid, Quark.”

“Exactly my point,” Quark replied sarcastically. “And you still haven’t answered my question. If you’re going to be wasting both our evenings in this tacky excuse for a holoprogram, you should at least offer me the courtesy of an explanation.” 

Odo took his time in responding. He was no longer smiling, but he still looked so obnoxiously relaxed and _happy_ that it was beginning to make Quark sick. Call it paranoia, but a happy Odo was rarely a good thing for Quark, and the fact that he’d chosen to make himself happy playing pretend at what Quark did for countless hours a day was a little unnerving, to say the least. 

Not only that, it was downright rude, as far as Quark was concerned. It’s not as though he regularly waltzed into security telling Odo how to do his job on _his_ time off. 

Not often, anyway.

“I’ve recently acquired a few new detective film recommendations from Chief O’Brien,” Odo began, ignoring the teasing snort of derision from Quark. “And while I wouldn’t say these were quite as stimulating as those ‘noir’ films he seems so fond of, I found the aesthetic rather…intriguing.” He gestured to their surroundings of chrome and checkboard tilling. It was harmoniously tacky; welcoming yet off-putting all at once.

“I thought you might appreciate it, at least,” Odo continued a bit more gruffly, immediately snapping Quark’s attention away from admiring the bright red vinyl upholstery of the booths behind him. Odo had turned his focus back to cleaning the glass in his hand, ignoring the mild look of surprise Quark gave him. Normally, he’d assume the remark had been nothing more than an insult regarding his taste, but there was something about the quiet way he’d said it that left Quark unconvinced. If there was one thing he’d come to learn to recognize in Odo, it was deflection.

Mostly because Quark was a master at it.

“Well, I suppose it’s the least you could do, given how accommodating I’ve been to your little whims already,” Quark replied, a little too tersely, fiddling with the buttons at his wrist. “So, what’s on the agenda, then? I’m sure I have an evening of playing live bait-and-switch to look forward to, hmm?”

Odo looked confused. “An evening of _what_?”

Quark rolled his eyes. Mixed idioms may be his specialty, but not the universal translator’s, apparently. “What’s the game here, Odo? The story?” 

Odo’s confusion only deepened. “What story?”

Quark gave an exasperated, sheepish little laugh. Admittedly, when Odo first asked him to join him in the holosuite, he wasn’t quite sure what to expect – save for what he assumed would be the main agenda on the table: an investigation. With Odo, there was little else that seemed to occupy his thoughts – even those ridiculous group adventures with Bashir seemed to always revolve around some greater plot that Odo could sink his teeth into. There was little else, save for shapeshifting and meditation, that Odo seemed to use his holosuites for, and seeing as the former was no longer an option, and they weren’t currently strolling through the Bajoran botanical gardens, he doubted either was what Odo had intended to bring him here for.

He hadn’t known what to think of the idea at first – joining Odo as a helping hand in any sort of police work, fictional or not, didn’t seem like his particular idea of fun. But the idea of encountering a side of Odo he’d never seen before sounded…intriguing, to say the least.

Useful, he meant. 

Odo was not the least bit “intriguing.” Which was why he was not the least bit interested in _why_ exactly he’d invited Quark along or _why_ he’d chosen this particular venue, other than how said information might benefit him in his future endeavors. Of course.

“I apologize if I gave you a false impression of what to expect this evening – “

“You haven’t given me any impression at all,” Quark interrupted, scowling to cover his embarrassment. He hated to be wrong. Thankfully, it was a relatively rare occurrence. Particularly in things concerning Odo. “There’s not a lot to glean from ’Hey Quark, meet me in the holosuite this Friday. Spend some of your hard-earned latinum on a suit you’ll never wear again so we can sit around drinking coffee and making small talk like a couple of hu-mans for my amusement.’ Forgive me for filling in the blanks myself.”

“…I never asked you to wear a suit,” Odo retorted, though there wasn’t as much bite as usual to his words. He looked a little embarrassed himself, and Quark hated him for it, stewing in their mutual awkwardness with a scowl on his face.

“What, so you could be the only one dressed up and leave me looking like an idiot? Hah,” Quark practically spit out the reply, avoiding the disturbing look of concern on Odo’s face. “Figures that you’re perfectly willing to drag along the rest of your Starfleet pals on your little detective adventures, but not me, oh no. Not Quark, he’ll find some way to screw things up, and we can’t have that – “ 

“_Quark,_” Odo interrupted sternly. He was frowning, but he didn’t look angry; he seemed confused, possibly hurt? His arms were folded across his chest, and he sighed, looking away just as Quark had done, suddenly uncomfortable. Quark felt a wave of anxious nausea at the sight. 

Now he’d done it.

Not that he cared, of course. Why should he care if the pompous brick of a man had suddenly learned how to emote? 

But Odo continued. “Whatever you think my intentions were, I can assure you that they were not to exclude you. Or use you as a pawn in some ‘ridiculous’ game,” he scowled, annoyed with Quark that he would assume so little of him. “On the rare occasion I do invite someone with me on one of my ‘little adventures’ it is someone I know will _enjoy_ the kind of program I like. Why would I drag you along for something you’ll no doubt complain about the entire time? It has nothing to do with your intelligence; I just don’t want to hear you whine about how bored you are all night.”

Odo sighed, his scowl softening as they stared at each other in silence for a moment. “Besides, I haven’t been feeling up for those programs lately. I haven’t been feeling…like myself,” he admitted quietly. 

“…and I know you haven’t either.”

Quark felt another wave of nausea hit his gut. When he slept at night, sometimes the bed would suddenly turn to icy, hard soil. The blanket would crinkle like the shiny outer layer of that damned thermal survival coat, and the sound of a distant, hungry animal would wake him in a freezing cold sweat. 

No, he hadn’t been feeling like himself recently.

“I just thought it might be nice,” Odo continued carefully. “To have a night somewhere else. Somewhere neither of us had ever been before. I wasn’t what to pick that we’d both agree on, given our…differences in taste,” he layered the words with sarcasm, but his tone was far softer than the dry look he paired it with would imply. “Then when the Chief lent me those films, I had this idea. I thought you might like it here.”

Quark must have looked particularly unsettled, his eyes widened and his mouth threatening to fall open in surprise. His ears burned, and his chest felt hot. He wasn’t sure if he were embarrassed, or touched. Both? Both seemed good.

What was the appropriate response to your rival admitting to giving at least a small, miniscule amount about your wants and well-being? 

Odo didn’t seem to notice, still wearing that disturbingly sincere apologetic look on his face. “That being said…if I have upset you tonight, intentional or not, I apologize.”

Now he definitely felt like throwing up.

Ever since the mountain, everything felt different. He still wasn’t sure if it was a good thing, or a terrible, things-will-never-be-the-same sort of different. 

He’d never considered the option that it could be a _good_ sort of things-will-never-be-the-same sort of different.

“So…the bartending was…” Quark’s face contorted around the question. “For _me_?”

Odo rolled his eyes, shifting uncomfortably. His current disposition had significantly reduced his ability to maintain a suitable poker face. “Yes, Quark. For you. I figured…you might be up for a chance to relax after another one of your grueling shifts you complain so frequently of, though apparently I was wrong.”

Quark gave a half-hearted scoff. “And you thought I’d want to spend my day off…at a bar?”

Odo’s mouth was drawn into a tight line, and the tips of his ears had turned such a violent shade of red that Quark had to bite back a laugh. He had finally ceased his pointless task of cleaning the endless holographic glasses that lined the bar’s counter, but he was still gripping one of the glasses with his hands like a stressball. Odo wore embarrassment and frustration with all the subtlety of a kettle boiling-over.

“I thought,” Odo answered through gritted teeth. “You might want to have someone else serving _you_ for once.”

Any feeble attempt to find amusement at the situation suddenly died as Quark’s stomach dropped to the floor. He was suddenly very aware of how much every single thread of his awful, itchy suit irritated his skin, as well as how _hot_ it felt in this room. Though he supposed that could have just been the blood that was obviously flowing to his face in the least conspicuous manner imaginable. Odo must have noticed it too; his scowl softened significantly until he mirrored the uncomfortable, embarrassed expression Quark had been affecting for the last half of their conversation.

They stared in silence for a moment. 

Odo’s gaze shifted towards the floor, more uncomfortable than Quark had ever seen him. “Maybe this was a bad idea,” he mumbled gruffly. He put the glass in his hand back on the edge of the counter, misjudging the placement by a few centimeters. It went shattering to the floor.

Odo jumped back, startled, instinctively looking back up in Quark’s direction. Quark barely flinched – the sound of glass shattering was almost as common to him as the tone of his alarm. Normally, it would be something he’d wince at, but if there was one thing he knew as a bartender, it was that a glass breaking was the best way to break tension of any kind, for better or worse, and in this moment he’d never been more grateful for it. 

Besides, these weren’t his glasses. 

Calmly, he used the footrest at the bottom of the barstool to push himself up onto the countertop, swinging his legs around to climb behind the bar. He ignored Odo’s look of confused surprise, letting out a sigh of relief that he masked as annoyance. 

“Well, for starters, you’re a pretty lousy host,” Quark remarked, immediately setting to work at picking up the larger pieces of broken glass to throw away. “Not that I don’t appreciate the gesture, really, but if you’re going to be serving someone you should at least do it right. I can’t have you making a mockery of my humble profession.”

Odo shook his head, and Quark was further relieved at seeing that red-faced, embarrassed expression replaced with a more neutral look of bewilderment. “What are you doing? You could just have the computer replicate a new one.”

“Ah-ah-ah,” Quark chided. “Computer, broom and dust pan.” They materialized in Quark’s outstretched hands immediately, and he held them out towards Odo with a smirk. “First thing you’re going to learn: if you want something done right, do it yourself.”

At last, Odo returned Quark’s smile, looking equally relieved as he took the tools in hand. “And which Rule of Acquisition is that?”

“One of mine,” Quark replied. He took down another glass off the shelf, and, without breaking eye contact, mimicked Odo’s trick from before; but instead of catching the glass in his opposite hand, he flipped it to land upright on the counter behind him. The resulting look of awe on Odo’s face threatened to send Quark’s head reeling again, and he grinned.

“Where did you learn to do that?”

Quark shrugged, with an air of modesty that seemed almost genuine. “Just things you pick up on the job,” he answered, already polishing another glass. Pointless as it may be, the motion was familiar and comforting; it kept his hands busy, and his eyes focused on something other than the wide-eyed grin Odo was fixing onto his face. 

“Teach me.”

Quark paused, stared. 

Nodded.

Grinned.

“Okay.”

\--

Later, when the next hour had turned into two, then three, and Quark had taught Odo how to close down the holo-bar, they’d already made plans to meet again the next week, this time to a program of Quark’s choosing. (Quark had insisted that this was only fair, given that it wasn’t _his_ fault that Odo had chosen a program that Quark was obviously better at leading.) Odo agreed to compromise, on the condition that he was to choose the next program after that.

Quark agreed to keep his evenings free, and his holosuites open. 

And to take one night a week off.


	2. let's go to the fair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Quark's turn to pick an evening in the holosuite. When Odo sees the outfit Garak has designed for him, he's not quite sure what to expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **cw:** bugs, intense body dysmorphia/dysphoria, panic attacks
> 
> (this chapter gets heavy toward the end! it's mainly the next-to-last section if you want to avoid it, or if you need to skip this chapter entirely that's completely understandable!)

“As I’ve told you, Constable, Quark has sworn me to secrecy regarding this little ‘excursion' of yours. All I can tell you is what you see right in front of you.”

What lay in front of him was Odo’s own reflection in Garak’s dressing room mirror, and an outfit he had yet to put on. It consisted of a short-sleeved, linen button up, a pair of khaki shorts, and some sensible walking shoes. The shirt was nothing particularly offensive – a respectable shade of beige, similar to the hue of his uniform and every other article of clothing he’d acquired over the past few months. Odo appreciated the looser fit as well; he had found that tight clothing still irritated his skin, and anything that further limited a form he already felt restricted in was uncomfortable, to say the least. 

The shorts, however, were a different story. They were a subtle shade of purple, and while they matched well enough with the shirt, he wasn’t sure how well they matched Odo himself. He wasn’t against trying new things. In fact, he considered himself rather adaptable; it was the nature of his species, and if anything, he’d become even more adept at new experiences over the past year, given his lack of choice in the matter.

He was, however, suspicious with what he perceived as someone trying to change him or his appearance. He’d had more than his fair share of that already.

“The color choice was mine, mostly,” Garak noted, responding to the look on Odo’s face before he could complain aloud. “Quark simply said, ‘just give it some _color_.' And for once, I am inclined to agree with him."

“Color is not the problem. It’s which colors the two of you seem to favor,” Odo grumbled, studying the pants with a palpable sense of trepidation.

“Believe me, I went with the subtlest I had available. If I had my way – “

“You’d have everyone dressed in all the subtlety of a Cardassian sunset.”

Garak smiled, wide-eyed. He loved it when people managed to find clever ways to insult him. “If you’re unhappy, Constable, I do have a few other pieces in your size. If you have time – “

“I’m afraid I don’t, Garak,” Odo interrupted, eying the clock on the wall of the shop. “I really should be on my way if I’m going to avoid having to listen to Quark complain about how late I was all evening.”

“Don’t you want to try it on first?” 

“I trust your measurements are still accurate,” Odo answered wryly. “Besides, I’m not sure I want the rest of the station seeing me looking so…casual. I’ll have to change at the bar.”

He turned to go, then paused.

“On that note, not that I think I need to tell _you_ this, but I would prefer to keep these exchanges between us, if you wouldn’t mind,” Odo said sternly, a mild warning in his tone.

“I had anticipated as much,” Garak smiled knowingly. It made Odo uneasy, though he wasn’t sure he could articulate why. Just as he wasn’t sure he could explain just why the idea of the station knowing that he was spending one night a week in a holosuite with Quark troubled him so much.

But he was certain that Garak could make sure the entire sector knew if he wanted. And regardless of whether or not he thought he actually _would_, that knowledge worried him.

“You have my word as a tailor, Odo,” Garak promised, still smiling.

“Hmph.” He narrowed his eyes, but nodded appreciatively. “I suppose that’ll have to do.”

He walked toward the door, pausing once again to turn back before he exited. “Thank you. For the clothes. They look nice.”

Garak nodded, his smile widening a bit more genuinely. Odo stared for a moment, shook his head, and left with another harrumph.

He had Garak’s word, certainly. For Odo, Garak would keep a great deal to himself.

_Julian’s_ word, however, might be another story, he mused. Once he figured out exactly what was going on, anyway.

He wondered, with an amused hum, when exactly Quark and Odo might figure it out for themselves.

\---

Odo, with little surprise, found an impatient Quark pacing in front of the holosuite doors. His outfit was fairly similar to what Garak had made for Odo, albeit much more colorful. And a bit more lengthy – Quark’s shirt had full-length sleeves, and rather than shorts, he worn some loose-fitting pants. Still, even with his full body covered, Odo was struck at how dressed-down he looked as opposed to his usual attire. He hadn’t realized until they were missing just how many layers Quark usually incorporated into his daily dress. 

Wherever they were going, he had to assume it would be some place very different than the both of them were used to.

“There you are! I was beginning to think you were standing me up!” 

“I’m seven minutes early, Quark,” Odo replied. Quark scowled, but he did a poor job of masking the relief in his tone. Odo ignored it, rolling his eyes in an equally poor attempt to hide his discomfort upon recognizing it.

“And you’re wearing _that_?” Quark gestured towards the uniform, content to ignore him right back.

“While walking across the promenade, yes,” Odo replied, holding up the clothing draped across his arm. "I figured I'd change here."

“Oh. Good.” Quark glanced at the outfit, then at his own, but said nothing. Whatever purpose his glancing had served seemed to be satisfied, and he turned to the control panel beside the holosuite’s door. “Uh, I suppose you can just change in the stockroom while I load up the program.”

Odo frowned. He’d have been lying if he were to say he hadn’t been uncertain about Quark choosing the holoprogram for tonight, hypocritical as he knew it was. But given the nature of Quark’s more frequent holosuite suggestions in the past, he found it difficult to avoid feeling suspicious. He doubted that Quark would choose something explicitly vulgar, but he highly doubted that Odo’s sensibilities were something Quark would take into great consideration, either. 

In addition, the strangely sincere note of relief in Quark’s voice upon seeing Odo was filling his head with questions he wasn’t sure he wanted the answers to; did Quark really expect so little of him that he’d assumed Odo would simply not show up?

“I’m sure you understand why I might want to keep something like this private,” Odo said, choosing to divert his attention back to the clothes in his hand. “I doubt it would be appropriate for the chief of security to be seen spending time with the station’s most prolific petty criminal.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Odo,” Quark chuckled, not turning away from the control pad. “And yeah, I figured. I’m not exactly eager to have my customers seeing me with you, either. No offense.” He turned to face Odo, gesturing towards the door with a smirk. “It’s just that I have a reputation to uphold.”

Odo rolled his eyes. He was tempted to retort with another sarcastic remark, or infer that his reputation was only at stake due to some sort of criminal connection with his clientele. But instead he pressed his lips together in a thin line, unfolded his arms, and took a step towards the open door.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

\---

A warm breeze immediately greeted Odo, carrying with it the sounds of laughter, shouting, and the smell of something sweet. It was immediately a little overwhelming, and Odo’s shoulders tensed slightly as he tried to process the scene they’d just walked into.

They were somewhere outside, and he was made immediately aware that wherever it was, it was clearly the middle of summer – a single sun burned brightly in the sky above them. It appeared to be a large field, surrounded by miles of grassy flatlands. There were aliens of countless origins moving about in small crowds. Food stalls and gaming vendors were grouped into pathways across the expanse of the field, and in the distance, the source of the shouting could be spotted – various carnival rides sprung up like wildflowers throughout the fairgrounds. Nothing looked familiar to any planet Odo had ever been.

“Where are we?”

“Luria,” Quark answered from behind him. He grinned, breathing in deeply through his nose. He looked rather pleased with himself. “Borrowed a carnival program from Morn. He’s always blabbering on about how nice things are there this time of year. Figured it was time I saw it for myself.”

“Well, that explains the clothes," Odo replied with a bit of a relieved sigh. He turned to Quark, intending to be direct – hopefully an improvement from last time. “Why a carnival, if I may ask?”

Quark laughed. “Would you rather I’d have taken you to a police station? It’s a carnival, Odo. They’re supposed to be fun.”

When Odo maintained his stare, Quark sighed, shuffling his feet a little. “Alright, look. You’ve been at this humanoid thing for what, a good few months now? And what have you done them? Aside from you brief stint as a barfly, nothing I’d call ‘fun.’”

Odo bristled a little at the insult. “I’m not so sure our ideas of f'un' are compatible, Quark.”

Quark responded by clapping a hand on Odo’s shoulder, smirking as he began to walk ahead of him.

“I guess we’ll just have to find out.”

Odo stared after him, glancing at the spot on his shoulder he’d touched with a wary sort of curiosity. He started to follow, catching up rather quickly as they began to explore. The crowds that breezed past them were far smaller than one might find at an actual carnival, and they seemed to move further away as they walked, leaving the pair plenty of room to stroll casually and comfortably. It was, after all, only a holosuite – and Odo could appreciate its ability to separate the unsavory bits from any scenario you chose to experience.

The land was flat, and the air was humid, but not uncomfortably so. It was a direct contrast to the cold of the station. Lurians seemed to prefer a warm climate. Odo wondered briefly about Morn’s own comfort level on Deep Space Nine – Garak had expressed to him on more than one occasion that the temperature on the station was rather intolerable for him. It struck him a little more than he liked to realize that he’d never once thought to ask Morn how he was feeling – and meant it.

“Hungry?”

Quark interrupted Odo’s thoughts suddenly, and he snapped his attention back to the other. Apparently he’d managed to order something from one of vendors while Odo was distracted. He held out a paper tray of some sort of fried treats. Upon closer inspection, they appeared to be a kind of insect, fried and stacked in a pile, then dusted with some sort of powdery spices. Odo immediately recoiled.

“No, I am _not_ \- what _are_ those?”

Quark shrugged nonchalantly – he was used to such reactions from off-worlders in this part of the quadrant. “Fried Ferengi cicada shells. Try one!”

“Absolutely not.” Humanoid food still had a habit of making Odo feel ill. His disgust was fairly equal across the board – his dislike had more to do with the textures of foods, and the necessity of eating them in the first place, than any particular prejudice towards certain types. However, this particular food looked like it still had a face – a face with eyes that could stare him down as he ate its friends, and Odo was having none of it.

“Oh come on, they’re small,” Quark insisted, tossing one into his mouth with an obnoxiously loud crunch. Odo wined. “Chief O’Brien says they remind him of something called ‘crisps.’”

“Chief O’Brien eats field rations for their taste; I’m not so sure I trust his opinion.”

Quark gave a frustrated sigh. “Alright, then. What _do_ you want to eat?”

Odo shrugged, as though the question hadn’t even occurred to him. “I don’t typically eat at this time. I’ve had my meals for the day.”

Quark stared at him incredulously. “And?”

Odo twisted his face in confusion. “I’m not hungry, Quark.”

“_And_?” Quark asked again, then shook his head with a laugh. “Food is about more than sustenance, Odo. If there’s one thing you need to learn about being a solid, it’s to take a little pleasure out of it every now and then.”

Odo smirked, folding his arms with the smile of the cat who caught the canary. “So that’s your agenda here, then. To help me ‘settle in’ to my humanoid form so that you can convince me to be just as degenerate as you?”

“My agenda,” Quark answered. “Is to take you on every ride in this park until you either learn to enjoy yourself, or you’re too tired to insult me about my perfectly legitimate lifestyle choices.” He produced a map from his pocket, detailing a layout of the fair. He’d circled several attractions, some several times. Odo was, admittedly, a little impressed and surprised at the level of planning Quark had apparently put into this evening.

“And what’s this here?” Odo pointed to a spot at the bottom of the map where Quark had written a note, and added a star beside it.

“The program ends with some sort of nighttime ‘firework’ simulation,” Quark explained, allowing Odo to look over his shoulder. “Some kind of spectacle show. I’d never heard of it.”

“Neither have I,” Odo replied. “Did Morn bother to tell you anything about it?”

“All I know is, whatever they are, they’re loud,” Quark shrugged. “He said I’d need to adjust the volume control if I didn’t want to make a visit to Doctor Bashir after this. It sounds like some kind of light show – the best way he could describe it to me was like watching the wormhole open.”

Odo nodded, a little intrigued, though he hid it well. Effecting an unnecessarily loud sigh, he unfolded his arms, dipping his head in the direction of the rows of vendors and attractions surrounding them. He’d try to enjoy himself, truthfully, but he wasn’t about to let Quark know that.

“Fine, let’s get this over with. Lead the way.”

\---

He’d stopped paying attention to just where Quark was taking him, letting go of as much reluctance as was possible for a creature of habit. Hard as it was to believe, he was actually enjoying himself – and the attractions. It was incredible how similar riding through the twists and turns of a rollercoaster felt to soaring through the air as a Tarkalian hawk, or how calming the view from the top of a ferris wheel was after being stuck on the ground for so long. He was beginning to wonder if it was possible for feel nostalgia for some place he’d never been.

The next attraction Quark was dragging him towards seemed innocuous enough. The wooden doors of a building he didn’t even bother reading the sign for led into a dark room, with only the barest amount of light escaping from another door further inside. The two of them fumbled toward one another, Odo managing to find Quark’s shoulder, which he grabbed onto tightly as the latter led the way toward the little strip of light along the floor. The two of them were a mix of grumbles and laughter as they shuffled through the darkness.

The doorframe, as it turned out, was concealed only by a curtain, much to Quark’s surprise as he leaned his weight against a door that wasn’t there, sending them both stumbling into a sudden flood of light. Their eyes were strained, and it took a few moments before Odo could see well enough to instinctively let go of Quark’s shoulder.

When he did, he was greeted with a close up of his own reflection. The hallway was lined with mirrored walls, each bouncing his reflection back and forth infinitely in front of and behind him. He nearly lost his balance, disturbed. 

It was jarring, to be so confronted with himself.

The outfit that had only just began to feel comfortable to him suddenly felt much more restrictive and ill-fitting.

He felt silly and uncomfortable.

Just like he _always_ felt in this form.

It hadn’t been so bad when it wasn’t a permanent one. He chose his form originally from necessity, as it was based on the first form he’d ever seen. He’d kept it because it was familiar to him, and people recognized him that way. It made other people comfortable. But the knowledge that he could change it at any time had made his existence much more tolerable.

He turned away, putting his hands on the mirrors to steady himself. He felt like running, but his legs seemed to be locking up beneath him as he pushed himself further down the hall.

He quickly realized that moving forward was a mistake.

The mirrors began to change. Some were bent and rippled, twisting his reflection into a distorted caricature that only made his perception worse. He could see his head swell to the size of a balloon in one while his body shrunk to the width of a pencil in another. Somehow, he felt like he could feel himself shifting into these uncomfortable, unsustainable forms, sending his mind into a spiraled mixture of mania and phantom pain.

He was trapped.

“Computer, end program.”

Odo barely registered Quark’s voice from his place on the ground. His forehead was resting against the holosuite floor, his fists clenched underneath him so tightly he could feel his nails digging painful crescents into his palms. His ears were still ringing, his eyes still staring widely at nothing but the black paneling beneath him. He was grateful that his reflection had disappeared, but the fact that he now couldn’t see at all was far from comforting.

“Odo, hey. Take it easy. Deep breaths.”

He hadn’t realized how hard he was breathing. It felt more like panting, as though his lungs were empty and he just couldn’t seem to figure out how to fill them again. Like there wasn’t enough air in the room. With some effort, he forced his breathing to slow down, taking in a shaky, desperate breath through his nose, then out through his mouth.

“There, you got it,” Quark’s voice was calm. He’d crouched down beside Odo on the floor, but gave him plenty of space, using that same low tone as he continued. “Do you know where you are?”

Odo grit his teeth. He wanted to shout, or bite back with something sarcastic. But mostly he wanted to melt right into the floor, dissolve into a gelatinous state, and spend the next sixteen hours in his bucket and forget this ever happened. He was only vaguely aware of what was going on in the first place, but he knew that whatever it was, it was humiliating. 

“It’s alright. You’re in a holosuite. Suite number nine, as a matter of fact,” Quark shifted into a cross legged position, maintaining that same obnoxious, surprisingly effective level of calm. He watched Odo carefully – there was some anxiety hidden in his gaze, a trait Odo would have immediately recognized had he been able to look up at him, but he didn’t let it show anywhere else, keeping his voice relaxed and quiet.

He should never have agreed to this in the first place. He’d had reservations from the start – and he hated trying new things.

“It’s half-past 2200 hours. It’s a Friday. The fifth of the month, which means you’ll have paperwork due with Captain Sisko in a few days, right?”

Why did it have to be Quark of all people? And for that matter, why had he considered – no, _suggested_ spending time with him the first place? They had nothing in common. Nothing good to say to each other. He’d said he hated him, and he'd meant it.

“You’re lying on the floor. The temperature is eighteen degrees Celsius.”

He hated Quark. Hated hearing his irritating voice ringing in his ears.

“There’s nothing wrong. No one else here. It’s just me.”

He wasn’t sure why this was working.

“Now, where are we?”

Odo turned his head to the side, scowling, but was finally beginning to breathe normally again. “In the holosuite,” he grumbled from deep in his chest, disgusted at the lack of weight to his voice.

“Good. Now, how many fingers am I holding up?”

It took a moment, but Odo finally managed to shift his gaze up to meet Quark’s. Somehow, he felt a little relieved, seeing another face talking back at him.

“Four,” he answered. He felt immediately aware of the cold floor under his cheek. He took another deep breath, and pushed himself up onto his elbows. He wiped at his face, horrified upon realizing that his eyes were wet. He scrubbed at them, embarrassed and ready once again to dissolve into a million tiny droplets of himself.

“I’m sorry,” Odo muttered, refusing to meet Quark’s gaze as he moved into a sitting position.

“Don’t worry about it.” Quark attempted nonchalance, but neither of them seemed to buy it. He waved his hand dismissively. “Rom, uh…he used to have those…spells, when were kids. I had to learn how to calm him down when he got like that.”

Odo looked at him suddenly. “What do you mean, ‘those _spells_?'”

Quark looked back, tilting his head. “Sometimes…people panic. They get overwhelmed. Stressed. And things tend to boil over. It’s…” he paused, understanding. “…it’s a solid thing.”

Odo blanched. What had just happened had felt remarkably overwhelming and unique to him. To a changeling. He wasn’t sure if the fact that other humanoids also experienced this was comforting or even more humiliating. 

But, like many things, he supposed it could be a little of both.

“Anyway” Quark shuffled his feet, looking away awkwardly. “No need to feel…embarrassed about it. It’s a perfectly humanoid thing to do. And you can’t exactly help…well, you know.”

Odo nodded, Somehow, he found Quark’s fumbling way of restating his own thoughts surprisingly comforting.

“If I had known – “ Quark looked up fiercely, his tone a sudden mixture of apology and defensiveness. Odo raised a hand, cutting him off.

“You didn’t. And it’s alright,” Odo insisted, more assuredly now. Hearing his own voice speaking firmly, without shaking, seemed to relax them both. They both glanced around for a moment, taking the time to appreciate the silence, uncertain how to proceed.

“So, I take it we’re…done here?” Quark asked, and Odo was unsure whether it was discomfort or disappointment that he was attempting to mask over in his tone.

“I believe so, yes.”

“Well. Can't say I blame you,” Quark shrugged, sighing and shoving his hands into his pockets with a faked smile. “Shame we had to miss the fireworks, though.”

“We can save it for next time,” Odo offered. He frowned a little to himself, considering. “…What are you doing tomorrow?”

Quark looked up, shocked. He opened his mouth after a moment, then closed it, contemplating. 

“Working. But,” he shrugged his shoulders. “I could always give Broik those extra hours he’s been asking for.”

-

The air had cooled considerably in the shade. The sky had faded to a dusty shade of purple with the sun dangling just above the horizon, threatening to drop at any moment and shroud them in darkness. The sound of whispers and laughter mingled with the noises of bugs and animals hidden out of sight among the flora and fauna that circled the fair grounds. The two hidden under a solitary pavilion, however, we waiting in anticipatory silence.

Then, suddenly, just as the first stars began to appear up above them, a trail of light intercepted the shadows of the night sky, before exploding in a cloud of sparks and shimmers. The crowd below cheered, clapping and laughing as the entire sky was filled with gorgeous explosions and stardust.

“Well, I’d hardly call it a wormhole,” Quark said a little too loudly. The sound of the fireworks had been considerably lowered for his sake, but the knowledge that their realistic volume would have been too high to be _legal_ on Ferenginar still left him wincing.

Odo chuckled. “The resemblance is there,” he shrugged agreeably.

“That’s what I get for trusting Morn. He’s not exactly difficult to impress,” Quark stared up at the sky, leaning against the frame of the pavilion next to Odo, who was just as comfortably relaxed against the pillar supporting it.

“My apologies for wasting your evening. If I’d known that _this_ was all there was to the rest of the program, perhaps we should have just waited until next week.”

“Yeah?” Quark looked up at Odo, a hint of surprise in his voice. Odo nodded. Each of them smiled.

“Well, I guess you can make it up to me next week, them” Quark suggested, turning back to stare towards the sky. “Anything would have to be better than this.”

Odo watched him for a moment, staring at the grin still on his face. He turned his gaze in the same direction as Quark just as a particularly bright burst lit up across the sky. He smiled.

“I’ll do my best.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all I'm writing this fic with little to no plan and that is -not- how I usually do a chapter fic but I think I like it?? I'm having fun even though I'm not entirely happy with this chapter but I hope you're all enjoying it with me! anyway, notes:
> 
> \- Bashir is only vaguely aware of what's going on from the last chapter. Garak isn't telling but expects he'll figure it out eventually on his own.
> 
> \- I imagined Luria to be a savanna-type climate, based on what little we know about Morn from "Who Mourns for Morn?" I figured since he sleeps in a mud bath and he's always bundled up on the station, he'd be from somewhere more humid.
> 
> \- I once ate a cicada shell on a dare as a kid, so that's where that idea came from. I imagine Ferengi cicadas would be smaller and quieter but still considered huge pests since they basically scream 24/7.
> 
> \- I am trans (genderfluid) and I relate to Odo quite a bit, so I ended up projecting a lot of feelings (based on my own experiences; it's definitely not the same for everyone!) regarding my own dysphoria/body dysmorphia onto him here.
> 
> \- i hope there aren't fireworks in a ds9 episode that i forgot about lol
> 
> \- lastly, I want to recommend [thingswithwings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thingswithwings/pseuds/thingswithwings)'s amazing fic ["Touch"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15500028) \- I realized about halfway through writing that the idea of Quark introducing Odo to doing things just "for fun" was kinda similar to their fic about hedonism lol, and I didn't want to risk posting this without recommending what likely inspired parts of this one
> 
> thanks for reading! I appreciate all the feedback on the last chapter so much! <3


	3. let's solve a mystery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They say the third time's the charm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **cw:** not sure if there's anything that needs a warning in this chapter, but lmk if i'm wrong!

Julian Bashir was beginning to consider finding a new place to work.

He’d long ago accepted that being a doctor, particularly the chief medical officer of a space station, meant that he should never get too comfortable at work. He never knew when or where he might be needed, after all – an engineer might have an accident while working on one of the power conduits, for example. Or a science officer complaining of a headache might actually be suffering from a severe, untreated lymphatic infection. Or the deputy on sick leave may have discovered a hangnail in dire need of medical attention and another day’s doctor’s note.

And those had all just been this morning.

These were the sorts of things he could handle. He was prepared for them; he always sat at his desk at an angle, always kept his tools nearby, ready to swing into action. He’d been trained for the inherently unpredictable nature of his career.

What he had not been trained for, however, were the social calls working on Deep Space Nine demanded of him. While the infirmary’s location at the center of the promenade was clearly the most advantageous position when it came to treatment, its proximity to every other major location on the station made it impossible to go more than five minutes without one of his friends dropping by to say hello.

Some days he appreciated the company – particularly when he felt like procrastinating. Other days, like today, specifically, he was far too busy working on his latest project to make time for so many unnecessary interruptions. As fascinating as photos from Jadzia and Worf’s latest trip scaling the Andorian mountains were, or how invested he was in hearing Miles complain about the work ethic of one of the members of his staff for the third time this week, he really did have work he should be doing.

Which was probably why he had responded a little less politely than he should have when Quark entered the infirmary minutes after he’d finally managed to turn Miles away, and right as he was turning his attention back to the padd he’d already been neglecting for the last hour. He barely looked up as the Ferengi entered, replying to his greeting rather flatly.

“What?”

“I _said_,” Quark emphasized, unhesitant in expressing his annoyance over having to repeat himself. “Would you be willing to loan me your deerstalker?”

At _that_, however, Julian felt compelled to look up and face Quark. “My _what_?”

This time, Quark’s frustrated sigh read more embarrassed than annoyed. “Garak sent me to you to ask if you might lend it to me. He says it’s some kind of hat, and he’s not willing to make another one on such short noticed without a substantial express fee.”

Julian stared at him, brow furrowing in confusion. “Garak says _I_ have it?” Julian questioned, putting down his padd. “I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about, Quark. I don’t even know what it _is_.”

Quark rolled his eyes, exasperated. He raised his hands toward his head as though trying to imitate whatever it was he was attempting to describe. “It’s…shaped like this? With little…wings on the side? It’s for some kind of detective game that I am beginning to regret agreeing to.” 

There was a touch of sheepish venom in the way he described the nature of the game that Julian couldn’t help but notice. After a brief moment of consideration, his eyes widened with the kind of delayed clarity that so often made Quark feel like knocking the doctor’s head sideways a few times.

“Oh! _That_ hat. Right. And you’re borrowing it for a holosuite?” The look he gained for such an obvious question made Julian press his lips together with a nod. “Right. Ah…are you sure you want to borrow _mine_? I’m happy to lend it, but I’m not so sure it will, uh…” Bashir gestured to the circumference of his head.

The look Quark was giving him now reminded him of the time he’d accidentally stepped on the back of Major Kira’s shoe during a staff meeting.

“It’s not for me,” Quark explained, voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s for my…it’s for someone else. A friend. Whatever works for you. Do you have it not?”

Bashir glanced at Quark, then back at his padd. Of course he’d have let him borrow it regardless, but usually he’d make a bigger show out of expecting Quark to ask him nicely for it. Right now, however, he was more inclined to bite his tongue and give Quark whatever answer would make him leave faster.

“Fine. I’ll bring it over to Garak’s shop later. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to work.”

With what he would have to accept as a grateful little grumble and nod, Quark turned to go. Watching him leave, Bashir was suddenly struck by the thought of a rather intriguing question. 

“Quark?”

He turned back.

“If this ‘friend’ of yours needs the hat, then who are _you_ playing?”

\-----

“Remind me again why I agreed to spend my Saturday night dressing up as your tag-along lackey?”

Odo scowled in response. He should have known better than to trust Quark around Doctor Bashir. They both had a talent for running their mouths. Bashir was the type to spoil the ending to a story and smile at you as though he were doing you a favor, while Quark was the type to demand to know every reveal before they had the chance to sneak up on him. A dangerous combination if ever there was one.

“On the contrary; from what Doctor Bashir has told me, I would say that this Dr. Watson is far more of an asset than you give him credit, Quark,” Garak interjected. He was mending the interior fabric of Odo’s jacket, reinforcing the stitching where a thread had pulled loose when the latter was gesturing a little too forcefully at the now scowling Quark. He sounded sincere in his assessment, though he kept to himself the fact that he was basically quoting what Julian had told him when he’d voiced the same opinion as Quark upon first hearing the story.

This prompted Quark to shoot Odo another dirty look. “An _asset_? Well, by all means, then, I’m happy to oblige. It’s always been my dream to play the role of your tricorder.”

“Oh, spare me you dramatics, Quark,” Odo scoffed. “You can’t complain when I _don’t_ include you in any of my usual programs, then complain when I _do_. At least do me the favor of keeping your grievances consistent.”

“I hardly see how casting me as the springboard for your ideas is ‘including’ me,” Quark shot back. “I can’t imagine you’d ask Major Kira to – “ 

“Gentlemen, I hate to interrupt,” Garak said, breaking their banter apart with a sigh. “But I believe you are both overlooking the fact that it is only a game.”

When both Quark and Odo turned to look at him sharply, Garak smiled, holding up in hands in a gesture of peace.

“A _human_ game, might I add. And as I’ve become painfully aware, human literature is far more concerned with dynamics and ideas than with true character.” Picking up the finished jacket, Garak carried it towards Odo, sliding it onto his arms as he spoke. 

“Granted, this is only what I’ve managed to glean from Doctor Bashir and Chief O’Brien’s enthusiastic ramblings on the subject, but from what I understand this Dr. Watson character is intended more as the narrative opposite to Sherlock Holmes. His partner. While the detective might have more in the way of investigative intelligence,” he gestured to Odo. “The doctor is more of the earthly type, familiar with a more common sense approach,” he gestured to Quark. “One requires the other. Even if they are perfectly capable on their own, there’s a certain charm when they come together.”

He smiled, glancing between the two of them knowingly. “Some might even call them ‘friends.’”

Both seemed to visibly recoil at the suggestion. They looked to one another in mutual disagreement.

“I think I prefer your interpretation,” Odo said to Quark.

“Me too.”

Garak sighed, turning his head to roll his eyes. Perhaps some things were better left unsaid.

\-----

On the rare occasion that Bashir was afforded time to himself, he would cling to it like mad, appreciating every moment to the point of distraction. Once he’d started combing through the research notes on his padd that morning, he’d barely looked up to watch where he was going, his mind focused on little else besides finishing his work. When hunger finally forced him to head towards the replimat, he brought the padd with him, reading with his head turned to the words on the screen while his body faced his plate.

“You’re gonna get a stiff neck, eating like that.”

The interruption nearly sent the food on his fork into his lap, as he turned his eyes upward. Chief O’Brien was smirking at him, clearly amused as he dropped his own tray down in front of Bashir’s.

Julian lowered his padd sheepishly. “Just trying to catch up on some work.”

“Well, I can understand that,” Miles admitted, digging a spoon into his food. “But you won’t see me bringing a decoupler to the table.”

The remark was annoying, but somehow Bashir still felt himself smile. O’Brien was good at that.

“Maybe I could use a bit of a break.”

O’Brien looked pleased. “I think we’re due for a new holosuite program. Which reminds me,” he interrupted himself. “I lent the Sherlock program to Odo this morning. I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

Julian raised an eyebrow. “Odo?”

“Yeah,” Miles laughed, equally surprised, it would seem, though certainly for different reasons. “I told him we were borrowing it ourselves from the Enterprise, but he promised he’d look after it.”

“Huh,” Julian mused. He supposed the subject matter wasn’t all the unlike something he’d expect Odo to like, but somehow it still surprised him. But the bigger confusion came from the fact that both Odo and Quark had intended to use the same program. Julian had simply assumed Quark had intended to use the program without asking, as the file was still on hold in his bar, but given that Odo just so happened to be borrowing it on the same night, he could also assume there was going to be a bit of a conflict in the next few hours. “I suppose I better let Quark know.”

“Don’t bother,” Miles assured with a wave of the hand. “I stopped by the bar on my lunch break to let him know Odo would be borrowing it. He’s already booked the suite, as far as I know.”

Now he was _very_ confused.

He began tracing over the conversation he’d had with Quark that morning, suddenly wondering if Quark had in fact said that he was planning on using the program tonight at all.

_”It’s not for me. It’s for my…it’s for someone else. A friend.”_

Slowly, then suddenly, realization dawned.

“Oh,” Bashir answered, nodding to himself. “Well…I certainly he enjoys himself.”

\------

Quark wasn’t sure he’d ever fallen asleep inside a holosuite before. Now, he was beginning to consider the possibility of marketing them to insomniacs. The past several hours had been spent trailing behind Odo from place to place through crowded, dampened streets, chasing down clues Odo seemed to have already anticipated. 

Part of him supposed he should be taking notes. After all, it was rare he got such a close and personal look into Odo’s investigative process. It might benefit his business to pay attention.

But it was all so desperately _dull_.

What he _had_ learned so far was that humans were endlessly fascinated with vague connections to one another. The glove that belonged to one Mrs. Utterson was of the same make as the lace parasol of another Ms. White, which _obviously_ meant that both had joined a bridge club with the lawyer, Mr. Lanyon.__

_ _

_ _Twenty different connection and two hours later, Quark and Odo had arrived back at 221B Baker Street, to pace back and forth across the floors for a while. (Well, Odo was doing the pacing. Quark was sitting in a high-back leather chair, struggling to keep his eyes open.)_ _

_ _

_ _“I just feel like we’re missing something,” Odo sighed, tossing a dart at the wall absentmindedly. Quark wondered idly just whether or not the program had originally come with the dart board, or if it had been an addition made by a certain customer of his._ _

_ _

_ _“A point?” He replied, words slightly muffled by the hand his chin rested in._ _

_ _

_ _“Yes,” Odo answered sincerely, ignoring the sarcasm in Quark’s voice. He turned to face him, arms folded across his chest. “There’s some kind of connection…I just can’t see what.”_ _

_ _

_ _Quark sighed, slouching in the chair as Odo began to comb over the details again. At least _he_ was enjoying himself. And given, he supposed, how things had gone the last time, he supposed he shouldn’t be complaining. Much._ _

_ _

_ _“What connection could a scullery maid have with a wealthy man like this Mr. Lanyon?”_ _

_ _

_ _“I can think of a few things,” Quark smirked._ _

_ _

_ _Odo shook his head. “I’m not so sure that they actually know each other – only that their finances are linked somehow. And besides, she was married.”_ _

_ _

_ _“So was I,” Quark’s smirk grew wider. Odo rolled his eyes._ _

_ _

_ _“If you’re just going to sit there and make snide remarks, you’re more than welcome to leave. I’m sure you’ve far more interesting things to attend to,” Odo huffed, barely even trying to disguise his obvious annoyance._ _

_ _

_ _“Hey now, don’t you start with me – I’m only playing my part,” Quark insisted, pushing himself out of the chair indignantly. “And in my experience the simplest answer is usually the right one. Don’t blame me for your lack of insight into the hu-man mind.”_ _

_ _

_ _“Even if it were just an affair, it wouldn’t explain half of the other people we’ve met who are involved.”_ _

_ _

_ _“Couldn’t it?” Quark plucked one of the darts from Odo’s hand. He smiled at the way the other’s brow twitched at his comment. “She tells her friend, he tells his, they tell theirs..."_ _

_ _

_ _“I’m not so sure anyone knows anything – or anyone,” Odo replied. “So far we’ve got no proof that any of these people have ever actually met. All we’ve got are a pile of letters with no return address,” Odo lifted a pile from the table. “All discussing the same vague exchanges, a list of senders with no clear indication of who received what, and that set of poorly-made silverware.” He guested to a briefcase in the corner._ _

_ _

_ _Quark had distracted himself again, tossing darts at the wall and landing everywhere but the board. With another frustrated sigh, Odo shoved the handful of letters into the other’s hands, and ignored the rather put-upon look he received in return._ _

_ _

_ _It was beginning to dawn on him that there might be a reason these holosuite visits tended to go south. Maybe it had simply been a bad idea from the start, and now they were both subconsciously coming up with poor ideas in the hope one would finally give up the game and call it quits. That was the thing about rivalry – there was no way to tell when it was really over, or when you could put your guard down. _ _

_ _

_ _“These are receipts.”_ _

_ _

_ _Odo snapped to attention. “They’re what?”_ _

_ _

_ _“Receipts. Very ostentatiously worded, but receipts nonetheless,” Quark answered matter-of-factly. “And some are invoices. Either way, they’re tracking sales of some kind. That’s why they’re all worded so similarly.”_ _

_ _

_ _“Let me see that,” Odo took the letters into his hand rather skeptically._ _

_ _

_ _“Judging by the repetitive text, and the rather circular nature of the clientele, I’d say it’s a pyramid scheme,” Quark continued, kindly pointing to parts of the text as evidence._ _

_ _

_ _“A pyramid scheme?” Odo frowned._ _

_ _

_ _“It’s an old Ferengi business model. It works by – “_ _

_ _

_ _“I know what a pyramid scheme is, Quark,” Odo huffed. “I just don’t see how you’ve managed to determine such a claim based on what little evidence we have – “_ _

_ _

_ _“You said it yourself, there has to be a connection,” Quark insisted. “And since you’ve apparently ruled out my other suggestions, what other reason would some lawyer living on easy street be writing letters to a maid living in the gutter?”_ _

_ _

_ _“But why would a lawyer be involved in something so petty and…unnecessary?” Odo was still unconvinced._ _

_ _

_ _“The same reason I play bookie for bar bets – every little bit helps,” Quark shrugged, his smirk growing wider with confidence._ _

_ _

_ _“But what are they selling? And to whom?”_ _

_ _

_ _“My guess would be that lousy dining set over there,” Quark nodded towards the briefcase. “And in my experience, the most likely answer to your second question is…each other.”_ _

_ _

_ _Odo paused for a moment, staring thoughtfully at the evidence in hand, then back at Quark, who seemed to be waiting impatiently for him to catch up. “…It would explain the lack of names and signatures,” he admitted. “And the common theme of money troubles, come to think of it.”_ _

_ _

_ _“Rule of Acquisition number eighty-two: ‘The flimsier the product, the higher the price,’” Quark quoted glancing again at the poorly cut pieces of silver. _ _

_ _

_ _“Yes,” Odo finally agreed, staring particularly hard at the dull, unpolished fork sitting in the open briefcase. He took it in his hand, running his thumb over the broken end of one of the tongs._ _

_ _

_ _Suddenly, his eyes widened._ _

_ _

_ _“Yes,” he breathed. “The dinner, with the lawyer – “_ _

_ _

_ _“Which was also pretty lousy, I should add – “_ _

_ _

_ _“The silverware. My fork was missing a tong, just like this one,” Odo explained, a grin slowly taking over his face to mirror Quark’s. He stared at the other suddenly. You’re right. It all makes sense. The lawyer, the maid, the letters…all the pieces come back to this – ‘lousy’ table setting,” _ _

_ _

_ _Odo toss the fork over his should unceremoniously. He walked towards Quark, smiled growing as he approached, Quark barely had time to react when Odo clapped his hands firmly on Quark’s shoulders, and laughed._ _

_ _

_ _“You were right, Quark,” Odo repeated, scarcely able to believe it himself. The grin on his face was infectious, and brought with it a lightness to Quark’s head and a swirling, fluttering feeling to his stomach. _ _

_ _

_ _“Yeah,” he breathed, staring back at Odo. “Go figure.”_ _

_ _

_ _\-----_ _

_ _

_ _The strict focus he’d been able to maintain for so much of the afternoon had unfortunately slipped away from Bashir after his dinner that evening. While he’d had the good fortune that his sick bay remained fairly underwhelmed throughout the remainder of his shift, he found himself distracted, a singular thought taking up space in the back of his mind._ _

_ _

_ _While originally planning to carry his work home with him that night, he decided that there was little chance at accomplishing whatever he’d set out to do by the night’s end, and opted instead to spend his evening in the company of someone other than his research padd._ _

_ _

_ _Someone he might be able to find some answers from._ _

_ _

_ _Garak was waiting in their quarters when he walked in, sitting upright in bed with a padd of his own. Truthfully, they were still Garak’s quarters, but there were enough of each of their belongings spread between their separate quarters that were it not for the distinct differences in décor, it would be difficult to know just whose place was whose. It was a choice that remained unspoken – their relationship was far from secret, nor were their living arrangements. However, both preferred having their own space from time to time._ _

_ _

_ _Both were familiar with the need for privacy._ _

_ _

_ _“Long day, my dear?” Garak asked without looking up. Julian flopped face first into the mattress, letting out a long isgh of relief._ _

_ _

_ _“Peculiar day,” he replied into the quilt, before pulling himself closer beside the other on the bed. “Seems I’m either doomed to be so busy I can’t get a moment’s peace to myself, or so distract that I can’t use what little time I have to get anything done with my work.”_ _

_ _

_ _“Hmm, peculiar indeed,” Garak hummed in an amused tone. “Have I ever told you that you have a particular talent for echoing my own thoughts aloud?”_ _

_ _

_ _The half of his mouth that wasn’t obscured by the blanket turned upward into a smirk. He stared up at the other for a moment, taking great comfort in the way that his chest rose and fell with each breath._ _

_ _

_ _“And you have a particular habit for sharing secrets, Garak,” Julian replied, pushing himself up on one elbow. Garak smiled, lowering the padd to look down at the other through a lowered gaze._ _

_ _

_ _“You would be referring to the little errand I sent Quark on this morning, I take it?” There was a pleased tone to his voice, as though Julian had solved some quaint riddle he’d made up just for him. Bashir almost blushed at the little swell of pride he felt._ _

_ _

_ _“Well, I suppose that solves that mystery,” Julian nodded. “I can see why he’s been so secretive about it now.”_ _

_ _

_ _“Indeed,” Garak chuckled, returning his attention to his padd as Julian rolled over onto his back._ _

_ _

_ _“I mean, I’m surprised that Odo would choose _Quark_ of all people, but perhaps they work better together than I would have expected,” Julian mused._ _

_ _

_ _“I’ve been told that opposites attract,” Garak smiled. “Though I suppose I’m more fond parallel alighments myself.”_ _

_ _

_ _Julian smiled back. “Do you know anything about their investigation, then?”_ _

_ _

_ _Garak tilted his head, brow twitching with slightest trace of confusion. “Only what you’ve told me about it, and whatever brief period research I came across while fitting your attire.”_ _

_ _

_ _“Oh, no, not the holosuite program,” Bashir shook his head. “I mean the one Quark and Odo are doing.”_ _

_ _

_ _Garak stared. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”_ _

_ _

_ _Bashir frowned for a moment, then, seeming to have some sort of ephipany, sighed and smiled. “Ah, I see…it must be something important, then. And whatever it is that you can’t tell me, I’m sure I can wait until it become more public information.”_ _

_ _

_ _Garak almost wanted to laugh; the smiled never left his face, but his eyes were wild with genuine confusion as his mind searched for connections in what Julian had suggested._ _

_ _

_ _Wait._ _

_ _

_ _Oh._ _

_ _

_ _“You think the two of them…are performing an investigation,” Garak repeated back slowly, struggling to contain the amusement in his tone. “And that _that’s_ why they’re spending so much time together.”_ _

_ _

_ _Bashir’s look of confusion had returned. _ _

_ _

_ _“I…well, yes? What other reason would those two have spending so much…” Bashir’s eyes turned to saucers. “…time together.”_ _

_ _

_ _He turned sharply to look at Garak, the other’s wry smile and nod confirming his realization. _ _

_ _

_ _“_No._”_ _

_ _

_ _“Yes,” Garak smiled._ _

_ _

_ _“Are they…” Bashir was sitting up now, hands gesturing vaguely, uncertain of just what he was asking in the first place._ _

_ _

_ _“I don’t think _they_ know what they are right now,” Garak admitted._ _

_ _

_ _“But they’re…so…” Bashir’s face played out a range of emotions: confusion, uncertainty, then, at last, intrigue. “Well, I suppose it makes sense, come to think of it.”_ _

_ _

_ _“My thoughts exactly,” Garak replied, patting the other’s hand with his own. Bashir leaned against the other’s shoulder, still furrowing his brow with consideration._ _

_ _

_ _“Are you going to tell anyone?”_ _

_ _

_ _Bashir shook his head. “Why would I do that?”_ _

_ _

_ _Garak tilted his head to look at him. “Because you love gossip, almost as much as everyone else on this station.”_ _

_ _

_ _“Those two need all the help they can get figuring out…whatever it is they’re doing. If they find out the entire station is spreading rumors, they’re more likely to give up before they’ve even started,” Julian explained. “Besides…I can’t say there’s really that much to tell so far, given how slowly they seem to be taking things.”_ _

_ _

_ _Garak smiled, admittedly a little surprised at his answer. Pleasantly so._ _

_ _

_ _He was surprised again when Julian kissed him suddenly, before pulling him into a tight embrace. When he pulled away, their foreheads pressed together gently._ _

_ _

_ _“What was that for?” Elim chuckled._ _

_ _

_ _“I’m just glad we figured out just what exactly _we’ve_ been doing,” Julian smiled._ _

_ _

_ _So few people surprised him at this point. Julian, however, always managed to find a way that made him smile._ _

_ _

_ _\-----_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for the feedback on the last chapter! I really appreciated it! anyway, notes:
> 
> \- Bashir has himbo energy
> 
> \- boy i sure do love run-on sentences and adverbs huh
> 
> \- I never really got into Sherlock Holmes but I absolutely need to see Quark in a little bowler hat and Odo playing the violin depressingly
> 
> \- yeah I've been getting a lot of pyramid scheme invites from people i haven't seen since high school and it's getting to be an issue lmao


	4. let's have a talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Odo and Quark have several conversations with several people. Eventually, they try to have one with each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **cw:** more mild descriptions of anxiety/nausea

“This is the absolute last time I will be repairing these pants, Quark,” Garak said sternly. “I’m afraid the seam allowance has reached its limit – you’re just going to have to buy a new pair.”

Quark could only grumble that it had been Odo’s fault they’d been torn in the first place. It hadn’t been _his_ idea to go paragliding across some Bajoran mountain range. Mostly because he wasn’t the one who had nostalgia for flying like a Tarkalian hawk. He’d made it over the first valley before he’d ended the program, ripping his pants in the process.

At least he was looking better than Odo.

\--

“You have a torn rotator cuff,” Bashir said, a scolding expression on his face. “You’re a solid now, Odo. You have to keep that in mind before you go traipsing off into the holosuite and pulling every muscle in your body twice a week.”

Odo responded with an annoyed, embarrassed sort of grunt. It should have come as no surprise that it had been Quark’s fault – their attempt at paragliding had been cut short when Quark had suddenly ended the program mid-flight, sending them both to the floor and all their weight onto Odo’s left shoulder. Then again, most of the damage could have been avoided if Odo hadn’t suggested sharing a glider in the first place.

“In any case, please do me the favor of choosing something a little less dangerous _this_ Saturday, if you wouldn’t mind?” Bashir smiled dryly. “Garak and I are going to Vic’s party that night, and I’d hate to have to abandon him to stitch you back together again.”

\--

“A party? What party?” Quark frowned. He was more out of the loop than he’d thought. Normally, he’d have already had something planned to compete against the potential business loss

“Yes, some sort of celebration for his regulars,” Garak said. “Most of which seem to be the senior staff, but I understand it to be an open invitation. It is a formal event, however – I’m afraid I don’t have the time to make anything custom on such short notice, but I might have a something close to your size on the rack…”

“Who says I’m going?” Quark sounded defensive. Garak raised an eyebrow. 

“Hasn’t Constable Odo invited you?” 

\--

“Why would I invite Quark?” Odo’s tone was just a bit more aggressive than Bashir had anticipated. As it tended to be whenever Quark was mentioned. He replied with an awkward smile.

“Well…why wouldn’t you?” Bashir asked with as casual a tone as he could manage. “I just assumed, since the two of you have been spending so much time together…” 

“That’s not exactly public information, Doctor.”

\--

Garak raised a hand, interrupting Quark’s question. “Please, Quark. Your secret, however unnecessary it may be, has been kept between us. Though I doubt it would be nearly as interesting to the rest of the station as you seem to think it would.”

“Seems to me you thought it would be plenty interesting for Dr. Bashir,” Quark said dryly. Garak only smiled.

“I’ll keep that tux on hold for you, should you change your mind.”

\-----

In all fairness, they weren’t _always_ up to something dangerous or complicated in the holosuites. Sometimes it was something as simple as a shared cup of raktajino after work. The setting was a rather plain-looking coffee shop, set somewhere (just where was unimportant) on Earth. Neither liked to admit they felt relaxed in a human, alien environment, but aside from the station, they didn’t exactly have many shared locations to draw upon. They’d sit and chat, or just drink in silence. Either way, it was comfortable. Relaxing.

A sharp contrast to the shouting they’d no doubt been doing hours ago in Quark’s bar, Odo’s office, the promenade, or even in the middle of Ops when they felt like mixing things up.

“Broik’s the only decent one out of the bunch,” Quark said, staring thoughtfully at a holographic waiter passing them by. “Maybe not much on _that_ guy, but I’d put my latinum on him in a fair fight.”

Odo nodded, watching Quark observe their surroundings just as thoughtfully.

“Of course, none of them could hold a candle to Pel,” he laughed into his raktajino with a shake of the head. “Now she had the lobes for business. She could have run circles around them.”

Odo watched the smirk on Quark’s face turn bitter, then sad, all in the span of a few muscle tics. Such subtle changes made such a profound difference in a solid’s face. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to mimic it himself as a changeling; now he found _controlling_ his expressions a far more difficult task. For instance, staring at the regretful expressions on Quark’s face was resulting in an uncomfortable stiffness in his throat, and concealing this discomfort from the muscles in his face was proving more difficult than he’d like to admit. Particularly when Quark turned to look back up at him with a concerned frown.

“Well? Aren’t you going to say anything?”

\---

“Staying silent won’t help you this time, Quark,” Odo practically snarled. “I’ve already got more than enough evidence to declare you personally responsible for this.”

“If that were true, then why haven’t you arrested me yet?” Quark shot back. “Now, you can either make your point, buy something, or get out. You’re turning away my customers with all your shouting.”

“Oh, please. If the constant grating of your voice hasn’t scared them off yet, nothing will.”

From the other end of the bar, Bashir filled his glass with a loud sigh. Beside him, O’Brien watched the exchange with a roll of his eyes.

“They’ve been at this for days now; weeks, even.”

“Don’t you mean _years_?” 

“No, this is excessive, even for them,” O’Brien insisted. “Odo’s been in here every day this week yelling at Quark about something.”

“Miles,” Bashir turned to face him. “Odo’s always come in here every day. Remember that week he took a vacation and Quark tried to file a missing person’s report?”

After a moment, O’Brien nodded. “Fair point. But still, something’s up,” he repeated, leaning forward to whisper conspiratorially. “If you ask me, I think the two of them are working on some sort of investigation. Maybe…hey, where’d they go?”

Bashir turned his head sharply to where Quark and Odo had been standing, only to see Morn taking up that space at the end of the bar. The Lurian met his gaze, and nodded his head toward the exit with a knowing look.

“No idea,” Bashir muttered, swallowing his own reply with another drink.

\---

“You miss her.”

Quark scoffed, adjusting his collar. Finally, they’d found an era of human history that exhibited _some_ sense of style. It wasn’t all that unlike modern Ferengi fashion, minus a few layers.

“Please. Just because I married her doesn’t mean I have to miss her, Odo.” The noise of the club inside made it easier to ignore Odo’s face.

“You learned Klingon for her, Quark,” Odo insisted, staring at a face that refused to meet his eyes. “You dressed up in that ridiculous outfit and faced a Klingon warrior for her,” Odo gave a scoff of his own. “I’ve never seen you put in that much effort for anyone.”

Quark stared at Odo.

“How about we pause the interrogation, Constable?” He gave a laugh, gesturing to the doors of the disco. “Let’s go dance.”

Odo stared at Quark.

“Okay,” Quark rolled his eyes, laughing genuinely this time. “Let’s go inside and make fun of all the dancing hu-mans.”

With a sarcastic little quick of the mouth, Odo at last nodded, following close behind.

\---

“Well? Did you get it?”

Odo cast a cautionary glance across the promenade, then reached into his pocket. He pulled out a familiar-looking cylindrical drive with a smile.

“Sorry to interrupt your shift, but I thought you’d be willing to forgive me given the occasion.”

It was a western program, and a rare one at that. Both had been rather obsessed with tracking it down after Quark had heard about it in passing from another holosuite patron. Which was apparently the way that everyone had heard of it; it was also a mystery, and great effort had been made to keep the ending a secret. And the given protagonist roles couldn’t have been more perfect for them – Odo would play the hardened, justice-driven sheriff, and Quark would play the street smart saloon keeper who was willing to lend a hand for the right price. However, the main draw was really the mystery itself – even Quark had begun to find them rather addicting, and Odo was enjoying having a partner along to solve them every now and again.

“No kidding,” Quark was grinning like a shark. “Sorry about the ‘oobleck’ remark…just trying to keep things convincing.”

Bits of an earlier conversation waded through his mind, and Odo nodded contemplatively. “…I don’t think anyone’s really paying all that much attention to our conversations, Quark.”

Quark didn’t look up as he turned the drive around in his hands. “You’d be surprised. Morn keeps giving me this look like he knows something.”

“Would that really be such a problem?” Odo asked, keeping his tone casual. “It’s just Morn.”

That time, Quark looked up, with an expression that suggested something rather insulting about Odo’s intelligence. “Oh, it’s ‘just’ Morn – just the biggest gossip on the station next to Dax, you mean.”

“Even if he did tell someone…what would it matter? I mean, who’s to say they’d believe him?”

Quark stared back at him, an incredulous look on his face. He shook it away with a dismissive smile, then turned on his heel to head back to the bar. “Still, no sense in staking your reputation on it, _Constable._”

Odo bristled. Watching Quark go, there was a gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach, particularly when he noticed the telling little huff of his shoulders once he turned the corner into the bar. It reminded him of someone, but he wasn’t sure who, even as he turned to go with an audible harrumph. 

\-----

The ache in the pit of his stomach still hadn’t gone away by that afternoon, squirming its way into the back of his mind as he mulled over the endless pile of reports that cluttered his desk. He must have made quite a sight to any of his deputies, judging by their unusually wary demeanor as they passed his office door. He ignored them. He was far too busy trying to avoid thinking about Quark to worry about what they were thinking of him.

He didn’t even hear the doors whisk open in front of him, until a familiar voice followed the sound. 

“Hey, got a minute?”

Kira’s voice was gentle, matching the smiling face that greeted him as he jerked his head up from his work. She was resting one hand on the chair opposite Odo’s desk, but stood back, as though requesting permission to interrupt him. Relaxing his shoulders, he uncurled himself into a more welcoming position in his chair, practically scrambling to set aside his work to invite her in.

“Major,” Odo `said, surprised. “Of course.”

She relaxed a little herself, but still took care to mask her relief as she took her seat, hand resting over her belly. The threat of her upcoming maternity leave was looming, she knew, and she intended to keep herself busy and upright as long as possible. 

“I hope I’m not interrupting your work?” The hesitation she’d brought in with her lingered as she gestured to the padd Odo had so quickly discarded.

“Not at all,” Odo said quickly, eyes drifting over the page. “Well…not really, anyway. Nothing too important.” Captain Boday’s various noise complaints could certainly wait. “Is there something I can do for you?”

At this, Kira shrugged, and gave a small laugh. “Not really. I just felt like checking in on you.”

The gnawing sensation in his stomach had been replaced by one in his chest.

“So, what’s new with you? I feel like we haven’t seen much of each other these past few weeks.”

He tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “Oh. I…I’m sorry, I…things have been busier than usual lately. Or rather, I’ve been busier, I suppose.” 

“No, no, don’t apologize,” Kira waved her hand. “I haven’t exactly been very available myself,” she laughed. “Between Ops, the Bajoran government, and the O’Briens’, I’ve been stretching myself pretty thin.”

Odo nodded. Paused. “And First Minister Shakaar?”

Now why did he ask a thing like that?

The unpleasant feeling in his stomach returned.

Kira blinked, then seemed embarrassed, before nodding again. “Right. And Shakaar. He’s fine, I mean. He’s well.”

Odo wasn’t sure how he should interpret the sheepish expression she was wearing. Or the fact that she’d thought to mention the O’Briens before Shakaar.

“And what about you? What’s been keeping you so busy lately?” Her smile grew more congenial as she changed the subject. 

Now that gave him pause. In all honesty, his workload had largely remained the same. In fact, he’d been more inclined to let his deputies handle cases he would have previously reserved for himself. As it turned out, incorporating regular leisure time into your routine could be a task unto itself.

Which meant the answer to her question was simply that he’d been spending all his time with Quark.

Odo blanched.

“Paperwork,” he said. “Endless amounts of paperwork.”

Kira nodded sympathetically. It was nice, he thought, having her here again. It really had been awhile since the two of them had sat like this, sharing a conversation with one another. Longer than a few weeks, in fact. Granted, it had been at his own request, for what he thought was his own best interest. But he’d still missed her.

Though, he suddenly realized, not as much as he’d expected. 

Or rather, not necessarily in the _way_ he’d expected.

This sudden ache in his chest felt far less familiar to him than he knew it once had.

And he wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“Sounds like we both could use a break,” Kira interrupted his thoughts and, once again, he was grateful for it. “Which reminds me…there _is_ something you might be able to do for me. If you want to, that is.”

“Which is?” Anything. Everything. Whatever she needed, he was certain he’d do.

Kira sighed, her smile stretching into an embarrassed sort of grimace. “You’re going to Vic’s party, right?”

Odo nodded.

“Well, so is everybody else. Which means, so am I, apparently,” she sighed again. “And so far, it seems like everyone’s pairing off.”

“They are?” The conversation he’d had with Bashir replayed in his mind, and he worked to hide an agonized expression.

Kira nodded. “I’m supposed to go with Miles and Keiko but…I think the two of them could use a night to themselves. Shakaar’s stuck in administrative meetings all week long, otherwise I’d ask him to come along,” Kira looked back at Odo, offering another shrug and a smile. “Look, I know it’s last minute, and a little silly, but did you want to go together? I could use the company.”

Odo stared at her. 

It was like the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving nothing to cushion the sound of the pounding within his chest. 

It wasn’t a pleasant feeling. 

This was the sort of question that should have lifted him up out of his chair, sending him floating like a cloud across the Bajoran skyline. Instead, he felt like he might throw up. 

But still he knew he _should_ be excited. Ecstatic, even. Which was why he was rather surprised to hear himself answer, “I’m sorry, but…I don’t think I can.” Then the pounding in his chest practically drowned out his explanation. “I’ve…actually been thinking of asking someone myself.”

Kira looked surprised, but her eyes lit up with a little excitement of her own. “Really? Odo, that’s great!” 

The ache in his stomach and chest were beginning to overstay their welcome. “It is?”

She waved her hands in front of her, as though to dismiss her request entirely. “No, really, I mean it. Forget I asked, that’s wonderful!” She grinned, looking so genuinely happy for him he almost felt himself smile back. Almost. 

“You’re…sure you won’t feel uncomfortable alone?”

Kira shook her head. “I can manage. Besides, I want you to have fun, too. It’s just a party.”

If only. 

Kira leaned back in her chair, her sigh sounded far more content than it had previously. “So, who’re you going to ask? Anyone I know?”

Odo fought to keep his expression neutral. Every muscle in his face seemed to be turning against them. Once, he’d had to work every second of every day to maintain the illusion of muscles, fat and tendons beneath a surface of skin, plotting out every expression with care. Now, he had to work twice as hard just to keep his face still.

It was one thing he hoped he never got used to.

“You do,” Odo nodded carefully. “But…I’d rather not say, not until I ask them. If I ask them. I’d like to keep their privacy.”

_If_ he asked him, he reminded himself. 

But then why did he feel such a spark of relief, saying it out loud?

Kira quirked an eyebrow, an expression he was more familiar with than any other from her. She stared a moment, debating pressing him further, but to his relief she chose to drop it, rising from her seat with considerable effort. 

“Well, in that case, _when_ you ask them,” she said, giving him a pointed expression. “I’m sure I’ll be happy to see the both of you on Saturday.”

“Major – “ 

Kira turned, staring back at him with another quirked expression. Odo’s mouth was still open, but it took considerable effort to make any use of it. “…it was nice talking to you.”

Kira’s face melted into a smile. “You too, Odo. Take care.”

Odo watched her go with a strange sense of relief. He’d certainly been happy to see her; their conversation no doubt played some role in the certainty he now felt in regards to whether or not he’d better invite Quark to the party with him.

Now, it was simply a matter of _how_ he was going to do it.

\-----

“Don’t worry, brother! There’s still time to invite someone!”

Quark ignored the suggestion, his back turned to Rom as he worked on his faulty replicator for the third time this month. Normally, he’d be complaining about how this entire station couldn’t be trusted to stay together for more than a week under Starfleet supervision. Instead, he was staring at the late invitation sitting on his counter. Apparently, Rom had been asked to deliver it sometime last week, courtesy of Vic; now, it felt more like an insult to his already wounded pride.

“Or maybe call in a friend? What about Grilka – “ 

“On Q’onos, and busy,” Quark said. At least, she had been the last time he’d called to check in over a month ago. _Not much point in calling her at the last minute anyway,_ he told himself. Besides, he somehow doubted a party at Vic’s would really been her kind of scene.

“Oh. Well, you could always come along with me and Leeta. It could be fun!” Rom turned his head away from the replicator to smile encouragingly in Quark’s direction, only to be met with a scowl so familiar he would have recognized it in the dark. “…or not.”

“It’s not like Uncle _has_ to bring a date anyway, Father,” Nog said from the floor, head down as he dug through Rom’s open toolbox.

“Easy for you to say when you’ve _got_ a date, Nog.”

“I don’t have a date,” Nog scoffed. “I’m going with Jake.”

The youngest of the three kept his head down, missing the look his father and uncle exchanged in reply.

“Besides, he’ll hardly be the only one there alone. I mean, there’s…” Nog paused, frowning as he ran through the roster of the senior staff, realizing rather quickly just how many of them were currently attached to one another. “…Odo. I guess.”

“All the more reason to stay in for the night, with company like that,” Quark practically spat his reply, affecting such a flustered expression that both Rom and Nog eyed him with some curiosity. The former particularly so. Quark pretended not to notice.

Rom continued to frown, staring at Quark pensively. “Nog,” he said. “It looks like we’re gonna need another roll of microtape. Mind grabbing some from my quarters?”

The moment the door slid shut behind him, Rom wasted no time in dropping all hints at subtlety. “Odo didn’t ask you to go with him?”

Quark’s stomach landed somewhere around his knees. He shook his head, mouth open, managing nothing more than a startled laugh at the question. “What? Why would Odo…you’re joking, right?”

“Maybe because he’s the one you’ve been spending every weekend in the holosuites with for the past month?”

His stomach sank lower. “That’s…ridiculous.” 

Rom just stared back at him.

Fear turned to embarrassment. Embarrassment to frustration. Frustration to plots of revenge against a certain Starfleet doctor he could only assume was to blame for such a breach of intel. “Alright, how did you know?”

“Remember when the holosuites were running a little slow, and you asked me to do some repairs?” Rom asked sheepishly. “Well…you left one of yours running one night after you left. I recognized the Constable’s identification number. I…sort of put two and two together.”

Quark groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose severely. 

“What are you so worried about, brother? So you’re friends, what’s the problem with that?”

“We are _not_ ‘friends.’”

_Clearly._

“Then...why..." Upon seeing Quark's expression turn dark at the mere suggestion of further inquiry, Rom closed his mouth. “Okay. So you’re not friends. That doesn’t exactly mean you can’t be seen in public together.”

“That’s the whole problem, Rom,” Quark said, glaring holes though the other. “What sort of impression do you think that would make? That I spend all my free time sharing any wayward scrap of information with the _constable_? And even if I wanted to waste my evening staring at the wallpaper with him, which I _don’t_, why would _he_ want to be seen with someone he’s arrested multiple times – “ 

Quark was interrupted by the sound of a quiet chime from his personal monitor, followed by a brief flash. A message for him.

Somehow he knew it was Odo before he reached the screen, shielding the window of text from Rom with his shoulder. 

_Vics?_

He was starting to feel lightheaded again. 

“…he’s lost his mind.”

\-----

“Quark.”

Quark kept his head down, focused on polishing the glass in his hand, hoping no one noticed when he almost dropped it at the sound of his name being called. Slowly, he lifted his head, glancing over at Odo as casually as he could manage. It was a good thing he’d never tried to pursue acting.

“Constable,” he nodded back, convinced that the entire bar had turned to stare at them. 

(_In reality, there were at least two attentive audience members, but few others seemed to have even noticed Odo’s appearance._)

There was an uncomfortable pause.

“…Is there something you wanted to ask me?” Quark prompted, his head tilting just a fraction too sharply.

“I was wondering,” he raised his voice, doing his best to ignore the curious heads that turned their way. “If your suit was ready for Vic’s party on Saturday night.”

A few more heads turned their way. 

Quark felt as though his throat were about to close in on itself. “Yeah. It’s, uh…it’s ready. Yours?”

Anyone who hadn’t yet turned around seemed to make a point to at that. The volume had stayed roughly the same, but to Quark, it was as though the entire bare was a noiseless room. 

“So I’ll meet you here then?” Odo nodded. “Since we’ll be going together.”

“Sounds good,” Quark nodded a little too vigorously. “See you then.”

“See you then,” Odo repeated. They stared at one another for a little too long, then with a grunt and another nod, Odo turned on his heel and walked back out of the bar, a little less assuredly than usual.

Quark, meanwhile, seemed to be staring into space, wearing an expression that rested somewhere between ecstatic and nauseated. 

Across the bar, Chief O’Brien turned to Dr. Bashir, who was grinning from ear to ear. “What do you make of that?”

“I think Garak owes me five slips of latinum.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooo this chapter needs some notes for sure:
> 
> \- I've basically abandoned the finer points of canon at this point, i.e. Vic wasn't introduced till s6, Leeta and Rom didn't get together till later in s5, etc.   
\- I was gonna try and stick to firmly putting this in the middle of canon but now it's more like a general "vibe" of that solid!Odo timespan and I'm cool with it  
\- this whole chapter was born out of the need to put Odo and Quark in the 70's and it happened for like 5 sec   
\- I hope I didn't make Kira read as too "soft"? I was trying to give off the feel for how I think Odo sees her (aka perfect and unattainable) but i worry it made her seem out of character, so apologies if that didn't come through  
\- I wanted to make this a particularly dialogue heavy chapter (can you tell my background is in playwriting l o l ) idk if it works super well in this format but character voices are fun and I can't help myself
> 
> Finally, I just wanted to take a moment to acknowledge Aron Eisenberg's passing. I know it's probably weird and/or unnecessary in the notes of a random fic on ao3 but it feels wrong not to mention it. RIP and condolences to his family and friends. <3


	5. let’s go someplace new

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quark and Odo head to Vic’s for a senior staff party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **cw: mild descriptions of anxiety, garak being manipulative**
> 
> ahhhhhh okay this hasn’t been thoroughly proofread so i’ll probably edit more later but I needed to go ahead and post this before bed so apologies in advance for errors!
> 
> Also here’s the song Vic sings later in this chapter: [”Somethin’ Stupid” - Frank & Nancy Sinatra](https://youtu.be/0f48fpoSEPU)
> 
> enjoy!

“It’s not a date.”

Nog sighed. Somehow, the more often he heard that particular phrase, the less convincing it sounded. He didn’t, however, intend to tell Quark that, instead focusing his attention on tying his uncle’s necktie for him.

“Never said it was,” he replied. The tie Quark had selected was apparently called an “ascot,” which he could only assume was some pronunciation reference to what sort of a pain it was to tie on someone else. It was brightly patterned, made up of different squares of orange and maroon, which complimented the burgundy tux he was wearing, in a tacky sort of way. Quark had ignored Nog’s suggestion of wearing something more traditional - he’d never worn lack in his life, and he wasn’t about to start now for the sake of a party thrown by a hologram.

Besides, his last-minute decision to attend Vic’s party at all had left him with few options other than what he could find on Garak’s rack. He’d been lucky to find something that fit him in the first place, let alone something that suited his taste.

“No, you’ve just been heavily implying it - you and everyone else on this station.” Quark sighed in frustration. “This is exactly what I knew would happen. But oh no, according to Odo, I was just ‘overreacting.’ Spend more than five seconds alone with someone and you might as well be engaged, as far as the people of this station are concerned...”

“No one’s saying anything about you two,” Nog insisted for the umpteenth time. Upon receiving a disbelieving star from Quark, he amended, “Okay, no more than they usually have to say, anyway.”

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Look, don’t read too much into it, okay? It’s just that...well, you two spend a lot of time together anyway, friendly or not. People to to talk. Don’t worry so much about it; people say the same thing about me and Jake - it doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“Oh, come on, Nephew - you know you could have come up with a more reassuring comparison than _that._” Quark gave Nog a pointed look, raising an eyebrow.

Nog stiffened, forcing a blank expression. It may have been more affective if it weren’t the same expression he used to make when Quark would catch him stealing jellied greeworms as a child. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

“You know, I didn’t think you tongo face could get much worse, but it looks like Starfleet’s taken what’s left of it all together,” Quark said. “Now, you can hide it from him, from your friends, you might even be able to hide it from yourself - but you can’t hide it from me. You’re crazy about him.”

He reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, but Nog shrugged it away. Quark’s tone softened.

“Have you told him?”

“No,” Nog mumbled. “Why would I?”

“Well, in my experience, that’s somewhat of an essential step when it comes to these kinds of things.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Nog jerked his chin up, scowling as he at last looked Quark in the eye. “I can’t - he’s my best friend. We live together. If I told him...it’d make things weird. Too complicated. Everything would be different.”

“But what if it meant everything could be better?”

Nog stared for a moment, expression turning more considerate.

“So what’s stopping _you_?”

Quark’s face remained neutral, but his mouth drew into a tight line. He turned his back to Nog, eying himself carefully in the mirror as he reached to loosen his tie.

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

———

Most assumed Odo didn’t care about fashion. 

And to the extent that others thought of fashion, that was likely true. Odod didn’t care about what was “stylish,” or trendy, or what was considered more attractive. But his did care about recreating fashion and the different materials that made up clothing. He found the optical illusions one could create with clothing most intriguing - the right seam or cut of fabric could make one appear taller, thinner, more symmetrical, etc. All without the need for shapeshifting and overexerting himself.

Now that he was humanoid, this had become all the more relevant. 

These past few months had also provided him with several opinions regarding the texture of clothing. He’d found his new skin particularly sensitive aboard the cool, dry climate of the station, and what was more, certain fabrics just didn’t _feel_ right. It was confining enough to wear another layer on top of this already confining form - comfortable clothing was a must.

He still, however, felt largely unconcerned about his clothing appearing attractive - he assumed most humanoids found him strange-looking at best, and felt there was very little that even the best clothing could do to change that.

Tonight was somehow different. 

He found himself looking in the mirror a little longer than usual - smoothing down the front of his tux, admiring the fit, and straightening his continental tie with considerate hands.

The suit was an earlier commission from his first holosuite outing with Doctor Bashir. The CMO’s affinity for the era of spies, night clubs and three-piece suits had proven beneficial to all involved this evening, particularly Garak, who had his hands full as it is with the rest of his programs’ attire.

According to Jadzia, Worf’s outfit had only just been finished yesterday. It was this morning when she had mentioned it, and when he’d made the mistake of participating in her conversation. By now he should know Dax always had an ulterior motive - once she had his attention, she brought up Quark almost immediately.

“It’s not a date.”

“Never said it was,” Jadzia replied, flashing him an innocent smile. “I sure hope not, anyway - otherwise I’m a lot further out of the loop around here than I’d thought. still can’t believe I didn’t know you were spending so much time together lately. And in the holosuites, no less.”

“Whatever tasteless sort of idea you have about what Quark and I do in the holosuites is about as far from the truth as you can get, Commander,” Odo grumbled, blushing nevertheless. “I’ve spent plenty of time in them with virtually the entire senior staff. I’ve spent time in them with _you_, as a matter of fact, and I think Commander Worf would appreciate to know there’s hardly anything going on between us.”

“No, that wasn’t what I meant, Constable,” Dax laughed. “It just surprised me to know that Quark would be spending time in a holosuite with someone else at all.”

“What?” Odo looked confused. “Quark runs the holosuites, why wouldn’t he use them?”

“Oh, I know he _uses_ them,” Dax raised her eyebrows, pivoting the moment Odo’s expression turned sour again. “He uses them _alone_, is my point. Quark doesn’t typically spend time in the holosuites with friends.”

Odo considered this. True, he’d yet to see Quark tagging along on one of the many Bashir excursions that everyone else seemed to be invited to. He’d just assumed that Quark was too busy working to make time for something like that. 

But surely there were others besides himself who’d at least mad the effort to _invite_ Quark along, weren’t there?

“The only time I can think of was...of course, there was Grilka.”

Odo froze.

“And he’s told me about a few of the programs he used to visit with that Cardassian professor he used to know - Dr. Lang?”

The inside of Odo’s mouth was feeling very dry all of a sudden.

“Surely he’s spent time in there with someone else on this station,” Odo insisted. “His friends, maybe.”

“Well, once or twice with me,” Dax said, shrugging. 

Somehow, that answer hadn’t been particularly reassuring.

Odo turned around a second time in front of the mirror, assessing the front and back of his tux with a nod. Self-consciousness was hardly a rare emotion for Odo, but this particular focus on the trim and fit of his suit was new to him. He briefly wondered what Quark would think of it, before shaking the thought from his mind. Instead, he chose to linger over the last thing Dax had said before changing the subject that morning.

_”Whatever it is you two are up to in there must be worth his while._”__

_ _

_ _———_ _

_ _

_ _“I don’t know how much time the people of this station _think_ it takes to tailor a period-accurate tuxedo, but I can assure you that it is longer than three days.”_ _

_ _

_ _Julian hummed an affirmative response, though he was admittedly only half-listening to the voice coming from inside the dressing room behind him. Garak’s shop was closed for the evening, have been turned into a far-messier than usual workshop over the past week where the two of them were now preparing themselves for their evening at Vic’s. Ironing boards, steam pressers, measuring tape and swathes of fabric covered every corner of the room. In the center, a full-length mirror held the doctor’s attention as he made the final adjustments to his appearance._ _

_ _

_ _“Not to mention the ladies,” Garak continued. “So much variety when it comes to style, yet so little when it comes to shape. I can see that maternity wear was not exactly a priority for this era, but I do believe I managed to make something decent for Major Kira...”_ _

_ _

_ _Julian’s second half-hearted “mh-hmm” was cut short when the dressing room curtain pulled back to reveal a very striking Cardassian, donning a particularly eye-catching suit. Giving him a rather obvious once-over, he gave a wolf-whistle and a grin. _ _

_ _

_ _Garak rolled his eyes._ _

_ _

_ _However, any sarcastic remark he might have made in response was cut short when Julian stepped forward to pin something to his lapel. The scent of the Cardassian fire orchid was unmistakeable, and the bright orange color was equally beguiling to the former gardener. They were his favorite flowers to grow during his time on Romulus - difficult to thrive in such a climate, but well worth the effort._ _

_ _

_ _“Julian, where did you - “_ _

_ _

_ _“It’s amazing what Keiko can do in that arboretum of hers,” Bashir smiled. His eyes glanced up from Garak’s lapel to his lips. With a smile, he leaned forward._ _

_ _

_ _Garak responded with a chaste kiss to his cheek. He smiled as he gave the other’s hands a light squeeze, avoiding the slight confusion in Julian’s eyes when he broke away. Stepping to the side, he gestured toward the door. One hand still held the others’, but there was something off about the weight of his grip._ _

_ _

_ _“Come now, my dear doctor, we wouldn’t want to find ourselves late to what is no doubt going to be a rather...interesting party, now would we?”_ _

_ _

_ _Julian followed, making a mental note of Garak’s response, but saying nothing. He took the other’s hand with a smile. If he had learned anything from his time with Garak, it was that there were times to press for an answer, and times to wait until he was ready to share. At present, this felt more like the latter than the former. It was a philosophy not unlike one Quark had shared with him on more than one occasion._ _

_ _

_ _ _“Rule of Acquisition #208: Sometimes the only thing more dangerous than a question is an answer.”_ _ _

_ _

_ _Julian cringed at the sound of Quark’s voice quoting gleefully in his head.. He could almost hear Odo’s familiar ‘harrumph’ in response, and gave a shudder._ _

_ _

_ _They really had been spending too much time with them lately._ _

_ _

_ _—-——_ _

_ _

_ _“And remember - the spare change drawer is for emergencies _only_,” Quark warned. “Round up, not down. No sense in breaking out the slips when we can use an even strip.”_ _

_ _

_ _Broik dutifully nodded, wearing the expression of a student repeating his first year of accounting. Quark had left him in charge on certainly more than one occasion, but each time was the same - a lecture on the basics he’d gotten the day he’d accepted a job on the station as a bus boy years ago. _ _

_ _

_ _What was intended to be sternness came across more as latent paranoia on Quark’s part. Trust in your employees may as well have been a deadly sin to a Ferengi. What’s more, he had special reason to feel paranoid tonight, given the potential business loss he himself was encouraging through attending this party. Even if it were only a small handful of members of the senior staff, it was the principle of the matter. _ _

_ _

_ _But Broik knew him well enough to suspect that that was hardly the most stressful element of this party that was sending him into a fit._ _

_ _

_ _His suspicion was solidified when the Constable’s hand appeared from behind to clamp down on Quark’s shoulder, making him jump midway through his explanation of the importance of keeping the sand pea bowls filled at all times._ _

_ _

_ _“Quark,” Odo sounded as put-upon as usual, but there was a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth at seeing Quark’s reaction. “Are you ready to go, or shall I wait for you to help Broik close down the bar first?”_ _

_ _

_ _“Odo!” Quark face contorted in a series of emotions, beginning with startled, annoyed, then settling on intrigued. He looked the other up and down for a moment, straightening his posture a little. Odo’s hand was still on his shoulder, but he did his best to shrug off any hint that he was impressed when he eventually looked him in the eye. _ _

_ _

_ _“Huh. So you _do_ own something that isn’t horrendously dull. Garak has a better eye than I’ve given him credit for.”_ _

_ _

_ _“And from the looks of it, I assume we have _your_ eye to blame for...all of this?” Odo gestured toward the colorful suit with a raised eyebrow, chuckling. He ignored the flush he felt rising in his neck as he caught Quark’s lingering eye. _ _

_ _

_ _It might have been a more convincing insult, had Quark not focused his attention on the way Odo’s gaze seemed drawn to the gold stitching along his collar._ _

_ _

_ _“No offense, Odo, but I’m not about to start taking fashion advice from a man who finds beige adventurous. You might as well start taking financial advice from Rom.”_ _

_ _

_ _“Fair point, but I’d say you could stand to take a few points from Rom when it comes to punctuality,” Odo replied, eying the clock behind the bar. “We’re late. Let’s head upstairs, shall we?”_ _

_ _

_ _“Of course. Just as soon as I finish helping Broik - “_ _

_ _

_ _“Come on, Quark,” Odo gently pushed him in the direction of the holosuites, sliding the hand from his shoulder to link arms. It was far less intimate in appearance than it suddenly felt, he knew. He cleared his throat anyway._ _

_ _

_ _Quark turned back to yell further unnecessary directions in Broik’s direction as Odo pulled him up the stairs. “ - and above all, when in doubt, just remember the ninth rule of Acquisition: opportunity - “_ _

_ _

_ _“...plus instinct, equals profit,” Odo quoted, interrupting Quark, who was suddenly staring at him with a look of dumbfounded awe. “Yes, yes, so you’ve said about a hundred dozen times.”_ _

_ _

_ _The noise of the dabo tables below had drowned the both of them out before they’d even reached the first turn of the spiral staircase. Nevertheless, Broik sighed with relief to see them go. For once, he thought, as another spin of the wheel sent the crowd into a chorus of shouts and laughter, there might be a little peace and quiet around here._ _

_ _

_ _———_ _

_ _

_ _The immediate shift in atmosphere was a little jarring._ _

_ _

_ _For one thing, Vic’s was a surprisingly quiet establishment for a place that also housed a casino. The place was mostly empty, save for the rather number that made up their private party. The lighting was dim, a good portion of it coming from the candles at each table, but the effect was cozy and warm. The band played a continuous stream of jazz interludes, quiet enough that the gentle murmur of polite conversation and laughter was not interrupted. _ _

_ _

_ _Compared to Quark’s, Vic’s was a library._ _

_ _

_ _Vic greeted them as they arrived._ _

_ _

_ _“Hey, the gang’s all here! Good to see you fellas!” He gave a particularly loveable smile. “Especially you, Mr. Quark.”_ _

_ _

_ _“Why especially me?”_ _

_ _

_ _“Hey, as far as I’m concerned, you’re my landlord,” Vic laughed, giving the Ferengi a goodnatured clap on the shoulder. “And I’ve been told it’s usually a good idea to make nice with the guy who’s keeping your lights on.”_ _

_ _

_ _Quark had to smile. It wasn’t a word perfect rule of acquisition, but it had the right spirit._ _

_ _

_ _“I must admit, though, I didn’t expect to see the two of you walk in together.”_ _

_ _

_ _Their arms had unlinked the moment they’d reached the door, but Odo still felt the involuntary need to move a fraction of space away from Quark at the word. “Why’s that?”_ _

_ _

_ _Vic give a dismissive shrug, expression aloof. “Eh, you know how it is. People talk. And the word on the street is, you two don’t exactly see eye to eye most of the time, if you catch my drift. To put it in something of an understatement.”_ _

_ _

_ _“People talk to you about us?” _ _

_ _

_ _“Don’t take it personally,” Vic insisted. “Believe me, I know way too much about life on this station for someone who’s never actually set foot in it. But hey, that’s gossip for you. Anyway, enjoy yourselves! Have a drink. I’ll pick back up with you two later.”_ _

_ _

_ _With diplomacy skills like that, Vic could have been a Federation Ambassador. _ _

_ _

_ __Which, in a way, he might as well be,_ Quark thought._ _

_ _

_ _The rest of the party had already arrived, much to Odo’s chagrin, and were clustered into various groups and couplings around the room. It seemed everyone was accounted for, save for Captain Sisko, who’d declined the invitation for personal reasons, and Captain Yates, who’d been out of the sector for the last month on business._ _

_ _

_ _Bashir and Garak, always the picturesque couple, were posed together by the bar, carrying on a conversation with a rather animated Chief O’Brien. _ _

_ _

_ _Keiko and Major Kira sat nearby, enjoying the own conversation, hands clasped together across the table. Kira, who by all accounts hated holosuites and unnecessary extravagance, looked very pleased to be there, her head tossed back in laughter at something Keiko had shared. She was radiant, and Odo was transfixed._ _

_ _

_ _Quark’s eyes searched for Rom, and found him standing beside Worf of all people, Leeta and Dax at their sides. Dax and Worf wore matching tuxedos, save the the traditional Klingon baldric that draped across the latter’s torso, and a red rose pinned to the former’s lapel. Leeta’s choice of a black tulle cocktail dress decorated with gold accents looked like something out of a holo-image, and coordinated well with the gilded stitching that vertically lined Rom’s waistcoat. Most striking of all was the way Leeta was draped over his arm, holding onto him as though she’d snagged the wedding bouquet. Rom, of course, beamed at his equally surprised batch of luck._ _

_ _

_ _Finally, Jake and Nog were seated together by the stage, removed from the rest of the crowd. Jake was leaning across the table on his elbows, grinning attentively at something Nog was saying. Nog appeared to be reclining casually in his seat, relaxed, until Quark noticed how tightly his hand was gripping the wood of the chair out of Jake’s sight._ _

_ _

_ _“So...should we...mingle?”_ _

_ _

_ _Quark turned to Odo, surprised, then laughed. “You know, just because we came here together doesn’t me we have to...stay together,” he said mildly. “You don’t have to ask my permission, Odo.”_ _

_ _

_ _Odo blinked, then nodded. “Right. I mean...of course. Do what you want,” he replied, forcing a little gruffness into his tone, frowning for good measure._ _

_ _

_ _“I will.” Quark frowned back, annoyed and relieved at Odo’s shift in tone._ _

_ _

_ _Neither of them moved to leave._ _

_ _

_ _Quark glanced at Odo, then back at the party. “Of course, if were were both thinking of doing the same thing, that would be okay.”_ _

_ _

_ _Odo glanced at Quark, then back at the party. “Yes. I suppose that would be the logical approach.”_ _

_ _

_ _Another pause. Another glance, this time in sync._ _

_ _

_ _“Just out of curiosity...what were you thinking of doing first, anyway?”_ _

_ _

_ _Odo shrugged, eyes finding a face in the room looking their way. “I was thinking of walking over to talk to Garak.”_ _

_ _

_ _“Well...what a coincidence. So was I,” Quark said. “So...wanna ‘mingle’?”_ _

_ _

_ _Now it was Odo’s turn to laugh. “You don’t need my permission, Quark,” he said, walking in Garak’s direction without so much as a glance in his direction._ _

_ _

_ _Making a sound somewhere between a huff and a laugh, Quark gave pause for a moment, then followed, taking large, quick steps to try and keep up as they strode across the room._ _

_ _

_ _———_ _

_ _

_ _“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”_ _

_ _

_ _“Honestly, Miles, there was very little to tell,” Julian insisted, glancing at the approaching pair. “All I knew was that they’d been spending time in the holosuite together.”_ _

_ _

_ _“Oh, come on, Julian,” Miles scoffed. “Those two have made this big show of just how much they hate each other every day for _years_. And now they’re just spending time in a holosuite together? In what world is that not something to talk about?”_ _

_ _

_ _“I didn’t realize a holosuite would be such a scandal.” Bashir was leaning back against the bar, regarding O’Brien with a mix of good humor and boredom. “I can only imagine what people must be saying about you and - “_ _

_ _

_ _“Constable,” Garak greeted the newcomers. “Quark. How nice to see you both.”_ _

_ _

_ _Odo pretended not to notice how sharply everyone’s heads seemed to turn in their direction._ _

_ _

_ _“Garak,” he nodded. “Chief. Doctor.”_ _

_ _

_ _“_Garak,_” Quark repeated, mimicking a dry baritone. “_Chief. Doctor. _Would you listen to him? It’s a hello, not a roll call, Odo.” _ _

_ _

_ _“Quark,” Bashir smiled, glancing him over briefly. “You’re looking very...purple.”_ _

_ _

_ _“Careful,” Garak’s smile darkened._ _

_ _

_ _“What a mind. Honestly, Garak, I don’t see how you keep up with him, making observations like that.”_ _

_ _

_ _“Quark,” Odo sighed. “Don’t start.”_ _

_ _

_ _Bashir, who had far less practice than Garak, attempted to hide a laugh behind his unwavering smile, exchanging a look with Chief O’Brien. ‘Little to tell’ indeed._ _

_ _

_ _“Odo,” Kira gave a little wave from her seat nearby, interrupting any attempts at a comeback from Quark. As well as any coherent responses from Odo. “Glad you could make it.”_ _

_ _

_ _She was dressed in a dark, floor-length gown, cinched just above the waist with a deep v-neck. The pattern was a vintage floral design, made up of autumn shades of red, brown, and gold. A clash of Terran and Bajoran fashion that somehow _worked_, a testament to Garak’s technical skills if ever there was one. _ _

_ _

_ _She was radiant. Odo was in awe. Behind him, Quark was miserable._ _

_ _

_ _He held back as Odo approached the table to chat with Kira and Keiko. Bashir and O’Brien, having their curiosity satisfied for the time being, had turned back to their own conversation. Leaving Quark a few steps back and suddenly very much alone._ _

_ _

_ _“Quark,” Garak interrupted his brooding with a hand on his shoulder, stepping out of the bubble that had formed beside them. “Let me order you a drink.”_ _

_ _

_ _———_ _

_ _

_ _“Of course it’s not a date.”_ _

_ _

_ _Garak smiled, amused at the offended look Quark threw back at him. If there was one thing Quark hated, it was agreement with his own self-deprecation. He took a sip from his glass, then continued._ _

_ _

_ _“He met you at the bar, rather than pick you up from your quarters. He failed to introduce you as his guest, and most damning of all, you’re currently sharing a drink with me, while he asks _my_ date when he’ll be free to make decent use of his rotator cuff.”_ _

_ _

_ _“So? What do I care?” The synthale was overly sweet and left him wishing for some of his own stock. He glared over the rim of his glass in their former company’s direction. “Odo invited me as a friend. Why should it matter to me if he spends the rest of the night crawling all over Kira like a Cardassian vole? Good for him.”_ _

_ _

_ _“You two aren’t friends,” Garak said, ignoring the analogy. “You’re just in denial.”_ _

_ _

_ _Quark swiveled in his chair, and Garak raised a hand preemptively._ _

_ _

_ _“Alright, look, enough. I have no interest in playing this tired game with two of you any longer. Deny it to yourself on your own time, but don’t insult my intelligence.” Garak moved in closer, blocking the view of the rest of the party with his body. “You’re practically symbiotic.”_ _

_ _

_ _The way Quark kept opening and closing his mouth in lieu of a response, like a fish on a hook, might have been amusing if it weren’t so annoying._ _

_ _

_ _“Don’t worry; I’ll give you a moment to think up a good lie.”_ _

_ _

_ _“Alright,” Quark finally said, glaring. Garak relished int he defeat creeping into his tone. “You’ve made your point,” he cut a glance back over the other’s shoulder. “How’s this: I won’t argue if you’ll do me the courtesy of spitting out whatever advice it is you’re so eager to share. Just don’t expect me to follow it.”_ _

_ _

_ _“You’ve given me better offers for less, but in this case I’ll make an exception,” Garak leaned in even closer. “You’re forgetting your principles, Quark. ‘Free advice is seldom cheap.’ And I’m afraid you’re not going to like hearing it.”_ _

_ _

_ _He admired the way Quark nodded, in spite of the fact that his expression looked like he’d rather be drowned in his own replicated synthehol than hear any sort of self-criticism from Garak of all people. He could be a courageous little coward, he had to admit._ _

_ _

_ _“Do you know the real reason Professor Lang left you?”_ _

_ _

_ _Garak wasn’t known for gentle punches. To Quark’s credit, he remained silent, looking as though he’d had the wind knocked out of him._ _

_ _

_ _Garak continued. “Because she was afraid. Afraid for your safety, for the future of Cardassia, etcetera, etcetera, whatever excuse she gave you. But mostly she was afraid of _being_ with you. You, on the other hand, were willing to end your career for her. Everything you’ve worked for, every accomplishment you’ve managed to carve out for yourself aboard this floating obstacle course. Your whole life, in fact. You’d have given it up in an instant for her. But she wouldn’t _let/i> you, couldn’t let you. She didn’t have that kind of courage. She was afraid.”__ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _Garak paused, allowing his words to settle in Quark’s mind while he took another sip of kanar. He nodded in the direction of the party were, he mentally noted, Odo was occasionally looking over at the bar, until his eyes would find Quark, and then could relax back into conversation with the others. Quark, however, failed to notice this, his gaze turned straight through the bottom of his glass, as though he might like to sink down into it for the rest of the evening._ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“Now, I can think of a great many words to describe our dear Constable, but ‘afraid’ isn’t one of them.”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _Quark’s fallen face lifted, and once again Garak saw a more familiar expression flicker across the Ferengi’s face: hope. He resisted the urge to smirk, and he lowered his voice conspiratorially._ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“And I’m no expert on Ferengi philosophy, but I seem to recall a great deal of emphasis being placed on the perils of _missed opportunities_.” _ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _The timing couldn’t have been more perfect as Garak turned to look across the room and, upon meeting Odo’s gaze again, lifted a glass and nodded in the constable’s direction. “It really would be a shame if by some ironic twist the only thing keeping you from getting what you wanted as that _you_ had become the one too afraid to reach out and take it.”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _Garak smiled as he watched Quark practically bolt out of his seat in the direction of the rest of the party, prideful and proud all at once. He might not be well-versed in the Rules of Acquisition, but there were some things that he’d picked up through the years that yielded results to which no rulebook could compare._ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _———_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _Parties came naturally to Quark._ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _To Odo, not so much._ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _This was hardly a startling revelation. While few would admit to liking Quark more than Odo, it was easy to see that he was the more adept of the two when it came to social situations._ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _This normally left Odo feeling self-conscious; he was a private person, and while he enjoyed being around other people in small doses, he didn’t necessarily feel the need to contribute to every conversation or event that took place. Parties, however, seemed to demand a higher degree of interaction from everyone - otherwise, you would be seen as withdrawn, shy, or worst of all, cold. This led to a lot of ‘checking in’ from everyone around you, expressed desires for your input, however repetitive or minuscule it might be, followed by an awkward aura that permeated the rest of the evening. Odo would leave feeling worse than when he’d arrived, anxious and despairing until the next interaction with his friends that would assuage his fears that everyone he knew now hated him forever._ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _Not so with Quark, he realized._ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _Quark was more comfortable among enemies than he was alone. Whatever genetic resequencing the Founders had done to the Jem’Hadar in the case of their need for Ketracel White was nothing compared to Quark’s innate need for attention. Any conversation topic seemed to gage QUark’s interest; he would always have even input to make up for Odo’s deficit._ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _And having Quark lead the conversations somehow helped Odo find ways to contribute in ways he wouldn’t have thought of before. Every comment made by Quark opened the door to a sarcastic response from Odo, which then would dissolve into a new conversation altogether between the pair, while the others politely watched. _ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _It escaped Odo’s notice when exactly the rest of the party goers had left them to each others’ company. _ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _Vic had started his set, and while most were seated or standing near the stage, Quark and Odo were leaning against the bar, still chatting as they listened. No one else seemed to be paying them any attention; likewise, they were quite content to ignore the rest of the room._ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“He’s good, isn’t he?”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“He’s hardly a team of half-naked Dabo girls, but he’s alright. For a hologram.” Quark grinned suddenly, tapping Odo’s arm. “Hey, he’s a lot better than that Andorian singer that started showing up in our cafe program.”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _Odo nodded, grimacing in agreement. “Or that human band from the seventies program.” _ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“Actually, I sort of liked that one.”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“Hmph. You would.”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _Quark laughed. Odo smiled._ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _The song Vic was singing was much softer, more intimate than its predecessor. The room had gone quiet to accommodate, so they lowered they volume to match, moving closer together. There was a long pause, but it felt well-placed. Reflective._ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _It was Odo who broke the silence, leaning toward Quark while keeping his eyes on the stage. “I’m glad you decided to come tonight. I know this isn’t...something you might normally do.”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“What? A party? Odo, have we met?”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“No, I meant the holosuite.”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“Odo, I use the holosuites plenty,” Quark scoffed. “With _you_. Are you feeling alright?”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“That doesn’t count,” Odo said. “I mean besides with me - or whatever vulgar activities you’re implying. You don’t spend time in here with everyone else. Not like Worf or Bashir or Chief O’Brien...or Dax.”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“_You’re_ judging _my_ social life now? Please,” Quark shifted a little, perturbed. “Even if I wanted to, where do you suggest I find the time? It’s trouble enough making room for you every week as it is.”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _Odo turned, surprised. “If you’re so stretched for time, you could have said something. If you need to spend less time with me - “_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“That’s not what I mean,” Quark waved his hand. “I said, _if_ I wanted to. Which I don’t. In case you haven’t noticed, Odo, I can be very particular. Time is latinum and I can’t afford to be spending it on things that aren’t important.”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _Another long pause. This one felt less serene._ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“So what you’re trying to say is...the time we spend together is important to you?”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _Quark’s eyes flashed with panic, turned a deep shade of tangerine, and he glared at Odo. He’d seen this expression once before, when Odo had caught him smuggling endangered Andorian mollusks in one of the cargo bays._ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“N-Now look, Odo, I don’t know what you’re getting at, or - or what it is you’re trying to get me to admit to, but it’s not gonna - “_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“Because it’s become important to me, too.”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Oh._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _Now, Quark looked like he did when Captain Sisko had informed him that Federation law permitted the transport of Andorian mollusks once they’d reached off-world markets outside of Andorian jurisdiction: hopeful._ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“...it has?”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _Odo nodded. They were turned away from the stage now, each resting an arm on the bar. The distance between them was so short that their sleeves rested against one another. It may as well have been outright handholding, as far as Quark’s anxiety levels were concerned._ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _He flexed his fingers toward the other ever so slightly. _ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _Odo did the same._ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“I never would have expected as much, but...it seems that I’ve grown rather attached to our ‘Saturday nights,’” Odo frowned, genuinely perplexed at the notion. “But I’m glad that we’re...well, that we can be...”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“We’re not friends,” Quark interrupted, too quickly. At the look of hurt that flashed across Odo face, he continued, “What I mean is, there’s not a word for what we are. We’re...symbiotic.”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _Far be it from him to question Garak’s judgement._ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _Odo seemed to agree; the corner of his mouth tugged upward into a smirk. “Is that so?” _ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“Obviously. Can you imagine how bored you’d be without me on this station? Last time I tried to leave you stowed away in the cargo hold.”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“Aren’t symbiotic relationships supposed to be an even exchange? I seem to recall the fact that I saved both of our lives on that little excursion; I hardly see your ability to distract me as a fair trade.”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“You find me distracting? Odo, I’m touched. And here I thought all my effort was going to waste.”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“Hmph. Please. You’d be a distraction to a corpse in the dark,” Odo was practically _grinning_ at this point. “No effort on your part required.”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“_Odo_; that’s a little off-color for you,” Quark sounded surprised, stifling a laugh. “Ribald, even. You almost sounded like a real person.”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“Likely a side effect of spending too much time with you,” there was a strange lack of contempt in his voice as he said it. Instead, he tilted his head to the side, the tips of his fingers brushing against Quark’s wrist. _ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“See? There’s the symbiosis kicking in,” Quark said, leering. Odo didn’t turn away at the expression; if anything, he could have been mirroring it. It was hard to tell for most when it came to Odo’s expressions, particularly for the last few months. _ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _Not so for Quark, who had a talent for being able to judge Odo’s mood from the weight of his stare - from _behind_. _ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _This knowledge gave him the confidence to lean into Odo’s minor touch, and take a half step closer. “Admit it - I may be a distraction, but everyone needs a bit of a diversion now and then. Especially on this station, and especially _you_.”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _Odo kept his smile, but his brow twitched slightly. He glanced across the room, looking thoughtful for a moment. “I...can appreciate the sentiment. But I’m not sure that’s the right word for it.”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“For what?”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“For what you do. What we do. Together,” Odo turned back. He waved his hand at the scene around them. “I mean, would you call this a ‘diversion’?”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _Quark glanced at the crowd gathered around the stage, and saw a mixture of smiles, chaste displays of affection, and gentle nervousness swaying to a two-hundred-year-old melody sung by a hologram designed to be as universally well-liked as possible._ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“I’d call it a little lifeless, to be honest. Present company excluded, of course.”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“That’s not what I meant,” Odo said. “I mean...I wouldn’t call _you_ a diversion, because I wouldn’t call being here a diversion.”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“Then what would you call it?”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _They stared at each other._ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“Uncle Quark?”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _Quark tried not to think about the little sting he felt when Odo straightened up so suddenly at the interruption, even though he’d drawn his arm back to his side just as quick. They both turned to see a desperate, wine-soaked Nog standing in front of them. The front of his shirt was dyed with merlot, his hands clenched into shaking fists at his side, and his mouth was drawn in tight line. He looked more nervous than angry, but nevertheless Odo crossed his arms, prepared to dampen any spark of a fire before it started._ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _Quark, knowing better, sighed. Reaching over the counter for a bottle of seltzer, he took Nog by the arm, turned him toward the entrance to the bathrooms. He tossed an apologetic look over his shoulder at Odo, who responded with an understanding nod. _ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _Straight answers never were their specialty._ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _———_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“He’s acting so weird! I don’t know what I’m doing!”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“Yeah, I can see that.”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _Slowly but surely, the stain was lifting. Enough to save his deposit was still uncertain, but Quark would be damned if he wasn’t going to throw every bartender’s trick in the book at it before paying to have it cleaned. _ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“_This_ was not my fault. I was getting up to get us something to drink, only I didn’t see Chief O’Brien behind me when I stood up, then - “_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“Nog, look, I don’t care if he threw it at you,” Quark said. “That doesn’t explain why you needed to interrupt _me_ when you’ve known how to get wine out of a shirt since you were eight.”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _Nog sighed, avoiding Quark’s sharp look. The familiar signs of a nephew(or brother) in distress, however, softened the latter’s annoyance, and Quark sighed. The sons of Keldar were not known for their tongo faces._ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“Alright, I’ll bite. What’s Jake done that’s so weird?”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“He’s been...nice?” Nog twisted his face uncomfortably. “Like more than usual. He...complimented my suit.”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“The cad.”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“Then he tried to...pull my chair out for me? I didn’t even ask him to. Does he think just because I’m shorter than him that I need help getting into my seat?” Nog took a deep breath. “I thought maybe he was just trying to be nice, but...now I think he might be messing with me.”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“Messing with you how?”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“He - “ Nog lowered his voice, glancing around the empty bathroom. “Uncle, he...asked me dance with him.”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _Quark stared at Nog._ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“What if he knows that I...he could have overheard me saying something about...he’s got to be messing with me, right? I ask him to come as a friend, and when he finds out I have feelings for him, he decides to pull some sort of elaborate prank on me. Like this is some kind of big joke to him. That’s what he’s doing, isn’t it?”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _It was a long moment, and an even longer sigh, before Quark gave his answer._ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _“You really are you father’s child, you know that?”_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _———_ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _After several reassurances that Nog was in fact crazy and not being set up by his best friend of several years in a scheme elaborate enough to rival their self-sealing stem bolts endeavor, Quark all but bolted out of the restroom back to the party. There was nothing more disappointing than a conversation ending just before the main course could be served. Even when he wasn’t sure he was fully prepared to swallow it._ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _His leather shoes squeaked against the corridor’s waxed floor, going silent as he entered the club’s main hall. He looked back towards the bar, but Odo was no longer waiting for him. He felt a familiar nervous rush settling in his stomach as he scanned the room._ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _It was nothing compared to the sudden drop he felt upon finding him._ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _The song Vic was singing now was yet another melodramatic love song, and thus every couple in the room had found their way to the dance floor and into each other’s arms. Among them were the O’Briens’, and Rom and Leeta, each couple beaming at each other in contrasting stages of intimacy - the lovesick stage of something new, vs. the comfort and reliability of the familiar. Garak and Bashir were close by, in their own little world as usual. They seemed to be discussing something as they danced, though it was hard to tell the content or even the tone of their conversation from this distance._ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _But Quark was watching the couple dancing off to the side from everyone else, removed from the crowd and focused entirely on each other. Kira was leaning her ear toward Odo, then tilting her head back with a laugh. She was clearly leading - as the turned, he could see Odo’s arm wrapped loosely around her waist, while she guided his other arm with her hand squeezing his. He saw Odo smile, and his chest hurt along with his gut._ _ _

_ _ _ _

_ _ _No. It was not a date._ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> noooootes:
> 
> \- it is a date tho
> 
> \- Julian just wants to go on a nice date with his boyfriend but the local ‘will-they-won’t-they’ couple is getting in the way of that
> 
> \- quote RoA at him and you’re basically asking Quark out on the spot
> 
> \- poor Broik; i want to see more of him in things
> 
> \- uhhh should i make a twitter? I don’t really do tumblr anymore but i need a place to dump stuff lol
> 
> \- thank you for reading! Sorry this chapter’s so huge lol

**Author's Note:**

> part one of??
> 
> so this is gonna be a veeery slow burn. I'm not sure where I'm going with this - I basically wanted an excuse to write Quark and Odo going off on different holo-adventures - which I know has definitely been done before, but it's a really fun concept so I hope you'll stick around! 
> 
> Some notes:
> 
> \- garak/bashir kinda just happened because they're really easy to write in, so expect more for sure
> 
> \- this is technically my first "real" quodo fic since all the others are "quark-pining-for-odo" with someone else thrown in
> 
> \- i'm thinking of switching between perspectives for different chapters - this one was mainly quark, next will probably be odo, etc.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
